Skip to main content

Full text of "Round the fire stories"

See other formats 


This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project 
to make the world's books discoverable online. 

It has survived long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain. A public domain book is one that was never subject 
to copyright or whose legal copyright term has expired. Whether a book is in the public domain may vary country to country. Public domain books 
are our gateways to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and knowledge that's often difficult to discover. 

Marks, notations and other marginalia present in the original volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the 
publisher to a library and finally to you. 

Usage guidelines 

Google is proud to partner with libraries to digitize public domain materials and make them widely accessible. Public domain books belong to the 
public and we are merely their custodians. Nevertheless, this work is expensive, so in order to keep providing this resource, we have taken steps to 
prevent abuse by commercial parties, including placing technical restrictions on automated querying. 

We also ask that you: 

+ Make non-commercial use of the files We designed Google Book Search for use by individuals, and we request that you use these files for 
personal, non-commercial purposes. 

+ Refrain from automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort to Google's system: If you are conducting research on machine 
translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the 
use of public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help. 

+ Maintain attribution The Google "watermark" you see on each file is essential for informing people about this project and helping them find 
additional materials through Google Book Search. Please do not remove it. 

+ Keep it legal Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just 
because we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States, that the work is also in the public domain for users in other 
countries. Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of 
any specific book is allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Google Book Search means it can be used in any manner 
anywhere in the world. Copyright infringement liability can be quite severe. 

About Google Book Search 

Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers 
discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web 



at |http : //books . google . com/ 



C:\473. 3G.l:ZO 







^Mwrnai'D^^ee^ 



?&arbartj College Hibrarp 

THE BEQUEST OF 




ROUND THE FIRE STORIES 



OTHER BOOKS 
BY A. CONAN DOYLE 



The Oreen Flag, and Other Stories of War and Sport, 

The Oreat Boer War, Adventures of Gerard, 

Return of Sherlock Holmes, Sir Nigel, 

The Hound of the BaskerviUes, 

Through the Magic Door 




**I burst with a shriek into my own life* 



ROUND THE FIRE STORIES 



BY 



ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE 




NEW YORK 

THE McCLURE COMPANY 

MCMVIII 



Copyright^ 1908^ by The McClure Company 



HARVARD COLLEGE LIBRARY 

BEQUEST OF 

WINWARO PRESCOn 

JANUARY 27, 1933 



Copyright, IMS, by The S. S. MeClure Qom^aaij 



PREFACE 

In a previous volume, " The Green Flag," I have assem- 
bled a number of my stories which deal with warfare or 
with sport. In the present collection those have been 
brought together which are concerned with the grotesque 
and with the terrible — -such tales as might well be read 
" round the fire " upon a winter's night. This would be 
my ideal atmosphere for such stories, if an author might 
choose his time and place as an artist does the light and 
hanging of his picture. However, if they have the good 
fortune to give pleasure to any one, at any time or place, 
their author will be very satisfied. 

ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE. 

w1nd1.esham, 
Cbowbobough. 



ROUND THE FIRE STORIES 



THE LEATHER FUNNEL 

» 

My friend, Lionel Dacre, lived in the Avenue de 
Wagram, Paris. His house was that small one, 
with the iron railings and grass plot in front 
of it, on the left-hand side as you pass down from the 
Arc de Triomphe. I fancy that it had been there long be- 
fore the avenue was constructed, for the gray tiles were 
stained with lichens, and the walls were mildewed and dis- 
colored with age. It looked a small house from the street, 
five windows in front, if I remember right, but it deepened 
into a single long chamber at the back. It was here that 
Dacre had that singular library of occult literature, and 
the fantastic curiosities which served as a hobby for him- 
self, and an amusement for his friends. A wealthy man of 
refined and eccentric tastes, he had spent much of his life 
and fortune in gathering together what was said to be a 
unique private collection of Talmudic, cabalistic, and mag- 
ical works, many of them of great rarity and value. His 
tastes leaned toward the marvelous and the monstrous, and 
I have heard that his experiments in the direction of the 
unknown have passed all the bounds of civilization and of 
decorum. To his English friends he never alluded to such 
matters, and took the tone of the student and virtuoso; but 
a Frenchman whose tastes were of the same nature has as- 
sured me that the worst excesses of the black mass have 
been perpetrated in that large and lofty hall, which is lined 



4 THE LEATHER FUNNEL 

with the shelves of his books, and the cases of his 
museum. 

Dacre's appearance was enough to show that his deep in- 
terest in these psychic matters was intellectual rather than 
spiritual. There was no trace of asceticism upon his heavy, 
face, but there was much mental force in his huge dome- 
like skull, which curved upward from amongst his thinning 
locks, like a snow-peak above its fringe of fir trees. His 
knowledge was greater than his wisdom, and his powers 
were far superior to his character. The small bright eyes, 
buried deeply in his fleshy face, twinkled with intelligence 
and an unabated curiosity of life, but they were the eyes 
of a sensualist and an egotist* Enough of the man, for he 
is dead now, poor devil, dead at the very time that he had 
made sure that he had at last discovered the elixir of life. 
It is not with his complex character that I have to deal, but 
with the very strange and inexplicable incident which had 
its rise in my visit to him in the early spring of the year 

I had known Dacre in England, for my researches in 
the Assyrian Room of the British Museum had been con- 
ducted at the time when he was endeavoring to establish a 
mystic and esoteric meaning in the Babylonian tablets, and 
this community of interests had brought us together. 
Chance remarks had led to daily conversation, and that to 
something verging upon friendship. I had promised him 
that on my next visit to Paris I would call upon him. At 
the time when I was able to fulfill my compact I was living 
in a cottage at Fontainebleau, and as the evening trains 
were inconvenient, he asked me to spend the night in his 
house. 



THE LEATHER FUNNfiL 5 

" I have only that one spare couch,'* said he, pointing to 
a broad sofa in his large salon ; " I hope that you will man- 
age to be comfortable there." 

It was a singular bedroom, with its high walls of brown 
volumes, but there could be no more agreeable furniture to 
a bookworm like myself, and there is no' scent so pleasant 
to my nostrils as that faint, subtle reek which comes from 
an ancient book. I assured him that I could desire no more 
charming chamber, and no more congenial surroundings,* 

" If the fittings are neither convenient nor conventional, 
they are at least costly," said he, looking round at his 
shelves. " I have expended nearly a quarter of a million 
of money upon these objects which surround you. Books, 
weapons, gems, carvings, tapestries, images — there is 
hardly a thing here which has not its history, and it is gen- 
erally one worth telling." 

He was seated as he spoke at one side of the open fire- 
place, and I at the other. His reading table was on his right, 
and the strong lamp above it ringed it with a very vivid 
circle of golden light. A half-rolled palimpsest lay in the 
center, and around it were many quaint articles of bric-a- 
brac. One of these was a large funnel, such as is used for 
filling wine casks. It appeared to be made of black wood, 
and to be rimmed with discolored brass. 

" That is a curious thing," I remarked. " What is the 
history of that.?" 

" Ah ! " said he, " it is the very question which I have 
had occasion to ask myself. I would give a good deal to 
know. Take it in your hands and examine it." 

I did so, and found that what I had imagined to be wood 
was in reality leather, though age had dried it into an ex- 



6 THE LEATHER FUNNEL 

treme hardness. It was a large funnel, and might hold a 
quart when full. The brass rim encircled the wide end, but 
the narrow was also tipped with metal. 

" What do you make of it? " asked Dacre. 

" I should imagine that it belonged to some vintner or 
maltster in the middle ages/* said I. " I have seen in Eng- 
land leathern drinking flagons of the seventeenth century 
— * black jacks ' as they were called — which were of the 
same color and hardness as this filler.'' 

" I dare say the date would be about the same," said 
Dacre, ^^ and no doubt, also, it was used for filling a vessel 
with liquid. If my suspicions are correct, however, it was 
a queer vintner who used it, and a very singular cask which 
was filled. Do you observe nothing strange at the spout 
end of the funnel." 

As I held it to the light I observed that at a spot some 
five inches above the brass tip the narrow neck of the 
leather funnel was all haggled and scored, as if some one 
had notched it round with a blunt knife. Only at that point 
was there any roughening of the dead black surface. 

" Some one has tried to cut off the neck." 

" Would you call it a cut? " 

" It is torn and lacerated. It must have taken some 
strength to leave these marks on such tough material, 
whatever the instrument may have been. But what do you 
think of it? I can tell that you know more than you say." 

Dacre smiled, and his little eyes twinkled with knowl- 
edge. 

" Have you included the psychology of dreams among 
your learned studies? " he asked. 

" I did not even know that there was such a psychology." 



THE LEATHER FUNNEL 7 

*' My dear sir, that shelf above the gem case is filled 
with volumes, from Albertus Magnus onward, which deal 
with no other subject. It is a stience in itself." 

" A science of charlatans.'' 

" The charlatan is always the pioneer. From the astrol- 
oger came the astronomer, from the alchemist the chemist, 
from the mesmerist the experimental psychologist. The 
quack of yestei*day is the professor of to-morrow. Even 
such subtle and elusive things as dreams will in time be re- 
duced to system and order. When that time comes the re- 
searches of our friends in the book-shelf yonder will no 
longer be the amusement of the mystic, but the foundations 
of a science." 

" Supposing that is so, what has the science of dreams 
to do with a large black brass-rimmed funnel? '* 

" I will tell you. You know that I have an agent who 
is always on the lookout for rarities and curiosities for my 
collection. Some days ago he heard of a dealer upon one 
of the Quais who had acquired some old rubbish found in 
a cupboard in an ancient house at the back of the Rue 
Mathurin, in the Quartier Latin. The dining-room of this 
old house is decorated with a coat of arms, chevrons, and 
bars rouge upon a field argent, which prove, upon inquiry, 
to be the shield of Nicholas de la Reynie, a high official of 
King Louis XIV. There can be no doubt that the other 
articles in the cupboard date back to the early days of 
that king. The inference is, therefore, that they were all 
the property of this Nicholas de la Reynie, who was, as I 
understand, the gentleman specially concerned with the 
maintenance and execution of the Draconic laws of that 
epoch.'* 



8 THE LEATHER FUNNEL 

"What then?" 

"I would ask you now to take the funnel into your 
hands once more and to examine the upper brass rim. Can 
you make out any lettering upon it? '' 

There were certainly some scratches upon it, almost 
obliterated by time. The general effect was of several let- 
ters, the last of which bore some resemblance to a B. 

"You make itaB?" 

« Yes, I do." 

" So do I. In fact, I have no doubt whatever that it is 
a B." 

" But the nobleman you mentioned would have had R for 
his initial." 

" Exactly ! That's the beauty of it. He owned this 
curious object, and yet he had some one else's initials upon 
it. Why did he do this?" 

" I can't imagine; can you? " 

" Well, I might, perhaps, guess. Do you observe some- 
thing drawn a little further along the rim? " 

** I should say it was a crown." 

" It is undoubtedly a crown ; but if you examine it in a 
good light, you will convince yourself that it is not an or- 
dinary crown. It is a heraldic crown — a badge of rank, 
and it consists of an alternation of four pearls and straw- 
berry leaves, the proper badge of a marquis. We may in- 
fer, therefore, that the person whose initials end in B was 
entitled to wear that coronet." 

" Then this common leather filler belonged to a mar- 
quis?" 

Dacre gave a peculiar smile. 

" Or to some member of the family of a marquis," said 



THE LEATHER FUNNEL 9 

he. " So much we have clearly gathered from this en- 
graved rim/' 

" But what has all this to do with dreams? " I do not 
know whether it was from a look upon Dacre's face, or 
from some subtle suggestion in his manner, but a feeling 
of regiJsion, of unreasoning horror, came upon me as I 
looked at the gnarled old lump of leather. 

** I have more than once received important information 
through my dreams," said my companion, in the didactic 
manner which he loved to affect. " I make it a rule now 
when I am in doubt upon any material point to place the 
article in question beside me as I sleep, and to hope for 
some enlightenment. The process does not appear to me 
to be very obscure, though it has not yet received the 
blessing of orthodox science. According to my theory, any 
object which has been intimately associated with any su- 
preme paroxysm of human emotion, whether it be joy or 
pain, will retain a certain atmosphere or association which 
it is capable of communicating to a sensitive mind. By a 
sensitive mind I do not mean an abnormal one, but such a 
trained and educated mind as you or I possess." 

" You mean, for example, that if I slept beside that old 
sword upon the wall, I might dream of some bloody inci- 
dent in which that very sword took part.? " 

"An excellent example, for, as a matter of fact, that 
sword was used in that fashion by me, and I saw in my 
sleep the death of its owner, who perished in a brisk 
skirmish, which I have been unable to identify, but which 
occurred at the time of the wars of the Frondists. If you 
think of it, some of our popular observances show that the 
fact has already been recognized by our ancestors, al- 



10 THE LEATHER FUNNEL 

though we, in our wisdom, have classed it among super- 
stitions." 

" For example? '' 

" Well, the placing of the bride's cake beneath the pil- 
low in order that the sleeper may have pleasant dreams. 
That is one of several instances which you will find set 
forth in a small brochure which I am myself writing upon 
the subject. But to come back to the point, I slept one 
night with this funnel beside me, and I had a dream which 
certainly throws a curious light upon its use and origin.'* 

" What did you dream? " 

"I dreamed — ^" He paused, and an intent look of in- 
terest came over his massive face. " By Jove that's well 
thought of," said he. " This really will be an exceedingly 
interesting experiment. You are yourself a psychic subject 
— with nerves which respond readily to any impression." 

** I have never tested myself in that direction." 

" Then we shall test you to-night. Might I ask you as a 
very great favor, when you occupy that couch, to-night, to 
sleep with this old funnel placed by the side of your pil- 
low?" 

The request seemed to me a grotesque one; but I have 
myself, in my complex nature, a hunger after all which is 
bizarre and fantastic, I had not the faintest belief in 
Dacre's theory, nor any hopes for success in such an ex- 
periment ; yet it amused me that the experiment should be 
made. Dacre, with great gravity, drew a small stand to 
the head of my settee, and placed the funnel upon it. 
Then, after a short conversation, he wished me good-night 

and left me. 

« « « « « « « «.« 



THE LEATHER FUNNEL 11 

I sat for some little time smoking by the smoldering 
fire, and turning over in my mind the curious incident which 
had occurred, and the strange experience which might lie 
before me. Skeptical as I was, there was something im- 
pressive in the assurance of Dacre's manner, and my ex- 
traordinary surroundings, the huge room with the strange 
and often sinister objects which were hung round it, struck 
solemnity into my souL Finally I undressed, and, turning 
out the lamp, I lay down. After long tossing I fell asleep. 
Let me try to describe as accurately as I can the scene 
which came to me in my dreams. It stands out now in my 
memory more clearly than anything which I have seen 
with my waking eyes. 

There was a room which bore the appearance of a vault. 
Four spandrels from the comers ran up to join a sharp 
cup-shaped roof. The architecture was rough, but very 
strong. It was evidently part of a great building. 

Three men in black, with curious top-heavy black velvet 
hats, sat in a line upon a red-carpeted dais. Their faces 
were very solemn and sad. On the left stood two long- 
gowned men with portfolios in their hands, which seemed 
to be stuffed with papers. Upon the right, looking toward 
me, was a small woman with blond hair and singular light- 
blue eyes — the eyes of a child. She was past her first 
youth, but could not yet be called middle-aged. Her figure 
was inclined to stoutness, and her bearing was proud and 
confident. Her face was pale, but serene. It was a curious 
face, comely and yet feline, with a subtle suggestion of 
cruelty about the straight, strong little mouth and chubby 
jaw.. She was draped in some sort of loose white gown. 
Beside her stood a thin, eager priest, who whispered in her 



12 THt: LEATHER FUNNEL 

ear, and continually raised a crucifix before her eyes. She 
turned her head and looked fixedly past the crucifix at the 
three men in black, who were, I felt, her judges. 

As I gazed the three men stood up and said something, 
but I could distinguish no words, though I was aware that 
it was the central one who was speaking. They then swept 
out of the room, followed by the two men with the papers. 
At the same instant several rough-looking fellows in stout 
jerkins came bustling in and removed first the red carpet, 
and then the boards which formed the dais, so as to en- 
tirely clear the room. When this screen was removed I saw 
some singular articles of furniture behind it. One looked 
like a bed with wooden rollers at each end, and a winch 
handle to regulate its length. Another was a wooden horse. 
There were several other curious objects, and a number of 
swinging cords which played over pulleys. It was not un- 
like a modern gymnasium. 

When the room had been cleared there appeared a new 
figure upon the scene. This was a tall thin person clad in 
black, with a gaunt and austere face. The aspect of the 
man made me shudder. His clothes were all shining with 
grease and mottled with stains. He bore himself with a 
slow and impressive dignity, as if he took command of all 
things from the instant of his entrance. In spite of his 
rude appearance and sordid dress, it was now Aw business, 
his room, his to command. He carried a coil of light ropes 
over his left fore-arm. The lady looked him up and down 
with a searching glance, but her expression was unchanged. 
It was confident — even defiant. But it was very different 
with the priest. His face was ghastly white, and I saw the 
moisture glisten and run on his high, sloping forehead. 



THE LEATHER FUNNEL 13 

He threw up his hands in prayer, and he stooped contin- 
ually to mutter frantic words in the lady's ear. 

The man in black now advanced, and taking one of the 
cords from his left arm, he bound the woman's hands to- 
gether. She held them meekly toward him as he did so. 
Then he took her arm with a rough grip and led her to- 
ward the wooden horse, which was little higher than her 
waist. On to this she was lifted and laid, with her back 
upon it, and her face to the ceiling, while the priest, quiv- 
ering with horror, had rushed out of the room. The 
woman's lips were moving rapidly, and though I could 
hear nothing, I knew that she was praying. Her feet hung 
down on either side of the horse, and I saw that the rough 
varlets in attendance had fastened cords to her ankles and 
secured the other ends to iron rings in the stone floor. 

My heart sank within me as I saw these ominous prep- 
arations, and yet I was held by the fascination of itoixfir* 
and I could not take my eyes from the strange spectacle. 
A man had entered the room with a bucket of water in 
either hand. Another followed with a third bucket. They 
were laid beside the wooden horse. The second man had a 
wooden dipper — a bowl with a straight handle — in his 
other hand. This he gave to the man in black. At the same 
moment one of the varlets approached with a dark object 
in his hand, which even in my dream filled me with a vague 
feeling of familiarity. It was a leathern filler. With^ hor- 
rib kjenergv he thrust it — but I could stand no more. My 
hair stood on end with horror. I writhed, I struggled, I 
broke through the bonds of sleep, and I burst with a shriek 
into my own Ufe, and found myself lying shivering with 
terror in the huge library, with the moonlight flooding 



14 THE LEATHER FUNNEL 

through the window and throwing strange silver and black 
traceries upon the opposite wall. Oh, what a blessed re- 
lief to feel that I was back in the nineteenth century — 
back out of that mediaeval vault into a world where men 
had human hearts within their bosoms. I sat up on my 
couch, trembling in every limb, my mind divided between 
thankfulness and horror. To think that such things were 
ever done — that they could be done without God striking 
the villains dead. Was it all a fantasy, or did it really 
stand for something which had happened in the black, 
cruel days of the world's history? I sank my throbbing 
head upon my shaking hands. And then, suddenly, my 
heart seemed to stand still in my bosom, and I could not 
even scream, so great was my terror. Something was ad- 
vancing toward me through the darkness of the room. 

It is a horror coming upon a horror which breaks a man's 
spirit. I could not reason, I could not pray ; I could only 
sit like a frozen image, and glare at the dark figure which 
was coming down the great room. And then it moved out 
into the white lane of moonlight, and I breathed once more. 
It was Dacre, and his face showed that he was as frightened 
as myself. 

**Was that you? For God's sake what's the matter?" 
he asked in a husky voice. 

" Oh, Dacre, I am glad to see you ! I have been down 
into hell. It was dreadful." 

** Then it was you who screamed? " 

*' I dare say it was." 

" It rang through the house. The servants are all ter- 
rified." He struck a match and lit the lamp. " I think we 
may get the fire to burn up again," he added, throwing 



THE LEATHER FUNNEL 16 

some logs upon the embers. " Good God, my dear chap, 
how white you are! You look as if you had seen a 
ghost.'* 

" So I have — several ghosts." 

" The leather funnel has acted, then? " 

*' I wouldn't sleep near the infernal thing again for all 
the money you could offer me." 

Dacre chuckled. 

" I expected that you would have a lively night of it," 
said he. " You took it out of me in return, for that scream 
of yours wasn't a very pleasant sound at two in the morn- 
ing. I suppose from what you say that you have seen the 
whole dreadful business." 

" What dreadful business ? " 

" The torture of the water — the * Extraordinary 
Question,' as it was called in the genial days of * Le Roi 
Soleil.' Did you stand it out to the end? " 

" No, thank God, I awoke before it really began." 

" Ah! it is just as well for you. I held out till the third 
bucket. Well, it is an old story, and they are all in their 
graves now anyhow, so what does it matter how they got 
there. I suppose that you have no idea what it was that 
you have seen? " 

*' The torture of some criminal. She must have been a 
terrible malefactor indeed if her crimes are in proportion 
to her penalty." 

*' Well, we have that small consolation," said Dacre, 
wrapping his dressing-gown round him and crouching 
closer to the fire. " They were in proportion to her penalty. 
That is to say, if I am correct in the lady's identity." 

'' How could you possibly know her identity? " 



16 THE LEATHER FUNNEL 

For answer Dacre took down an old vellum-covered 
volume from the shelf. 

** Just listen to this," said he ; " it is in the French of 
the seventeenth century, but I will give a rough transla- 
tion as I go. You will judge for yourself whether I have 
solved the riddle or not. 

* The prisoner was brought before the Grand Cham- 
bers and Toumelles of Parliament sitting as a court of 
justice, charged with the murder of Master Dreux 
d'Aubray, her father, and of her two brothers, MM. 
d'Aubray, one being civil lieutenant, and the other a coun- 
selor of Parliament. In person it seemed hard to believe 
that she had really done such wicked deeds, for she was 
of a mild appearance, and of short stature, with a fair 
skin and blue eyes. Yet the Court, having found her 
guilty, condemned her to the ordinary and to the extra- 
ordinary question in order that she might be forced to 
name her accomplices, after which she should be carried 
in a cart to the Place de Gr^ve, there to have her head cut 
off, her body being afterward burned and her ashes scat- 
tered to the winds.' 

" The date of this entry is July 16, 1676.'" 

" It is interesting," said I, " but not convincing. How 
do you prove the two women to be the same? " 

*' I am coming to that. The narrative goes on to tell 
of the woman's behavior when questioned. * When the ex- 
ecutioner approached her she recognized him by the cords 
which he held in his hands, and she at once held out her 
own bands to him, looking at him from head to foot with- 
out uttering a word.' How's that? " 

** Yes, it was so." 



THE LEATHER FUNNEL 17 

" * She gazed without wincing upon the wooden horse 
and rings which had twisted so many limbs and caused so 
many shrieks of agony. When her eyes fell upon the three 
pails of water, which were all ready for her, she said with 
a smile, "All that water must have been brought here for 
the purpose of drowning me, Monsieur. You have no idea, 
I trust, of making a person of ,m£,. small stature swallow 
it all." ' Shall I read the details of the' torture? " 

" No, for Heaven's sake, don't." 

"Here is a sentence which must surely show you that 
what is here recorded is the very scene which you have 
gazed upon to-night : * The good Abb6 Pirot, unable to 
contemplate the agonies which were suffered by his peni- 
tent, had hurried from the room.' Does that convince 
you?" 

" It does entirely. There can be no question that it is 
indeed the same event. But who, then, is this lady whose 
appearance was so attractive and whose end was so hor- 
rible? " 

For answer Dacre came across to me, and placed the 
small lamp upon the table which stood by my bed. Lifting 
up the ill-omened filler, he turned the brass rim so that the 
light fell upon it. Seen in this way the engraving seemed 
clearer than on the night before. 

" We have already agreed that this is the badge of a 
marquis or of a marquise," said he. " We have also set- 
tled that the last letter is B." 

" It is undoubtedly so." 

" I now suggest to you that the other letters from left 
to right are, M, M, a small d. A, a small d, and then the 
final B." 



18 THE LEATHER FUNNEL 

** Yes, I am sure that you are right. I can make out 
the two small d's quite plainly." 

" What I have read to you to-night," said Dacre, " is 
the official record of the trial of Marje^afl eleing <; i^,^nhrqjj 
Marquis de Brinvilliers, one of the most famous poisoners 
and murderers of all time." 

I sat in silence, overwhelmed at the extraordinary nature 
of the incident, and at the completeness of the proof with 
which Dacre had exposed its real meaning. In a vague 
way I remembered some details of the woman's career, her 
unbridled debauchery, the cold-blooded and protracted 
torture of her sick father, the murder of her brothers for 
motives of petty gain. I recollected also that the bravery 
of her end had done something to atone for the horror of 
her life, and that all Paris had sympathized with her last 
moments, and blessed her as a martyr within a few days 
of the time when they had cursed her as a murderess. One 
objection, and one only, occurred to my mind. 

" How came her initials and her badge of rank upon the 
filler. Surely they did not carry their mediaeval homage to 
the nobility to the point of decorating instruments of 
torture with their titles.? " 

" I was puzzled with the same point," said Dacre, " but 
it admits of a simple explanation. The case excited ex- 
traordinary interest at the time, and nothing could be more 
natural than that La Reynie, the head of the police, should 
retain this filler as a grim souvenir. It was not often that a 
marchioness of France underwent the extraordinary ques- 
tion. That he should engrave her initials upon it for the 
information of others was surely a very ordinary proceed- 
ing upon his part." 



THE LEATHER FUNNEL 19 

" And this? " I asked, pointing to the marks upon the 
leathern neck. 

" She was a cruel tigress," said Dacre, as he turned 
away. " I think it is evident that like other tigresses her 
teeth were both strong and sharp," 



THE BEETLE HUNTER 

I 

A CURIOUS experience? said the Doctor. Yes, my 
friends, I have had one very curious experience. 
I never expect to have another, for it is against 
all doctrines of chances that two such events would befall 
any one man in a single lifetime. You may believe me or 
not, but the thing happened exactly as I tell it. 

I had just become a medical man, but I had not started 
in practice, and I lived in rooms in Gower Street. The 
street has been renumbered since then, but it was in the only 
house which has a bow-window, upon the left-hand side as 
you go down from the Metropolitan Station. A widow 
named Murchison kept the house at that time> and she had 
three medical students and one engineer as lodgers. I oc- 
cupied the top room, which was the cheapest, but cheap as 
it was it was more than I could afford. My small resources 
were dwindling away, and every week it became more nec- 
essary that I should find something to do. Yet I was very 
unwilling to go into general practice, for my tastes were 
all in the direction of science, and especially of zoology, 
toward which I had always a strong leaning. I had almost 
given the fight up and resigned myself to being a medical 
drudge for life, when the turning-point of my struggles 
came in a very extraordinary way. 

One morning I had picked up the Standard and was 
glancing over its contents. There was a complete absence 

20 



THE BEETLE HUNTER 21 

of news, and I was about to toss the paper down again, 
when my eyes were caught by an advertisement at the head 
of the personal column. It was worded in this way : — 

Wanted for one or more days the services of a medical 
man. It is essential that he shoi^d be a man of strong 
physique, of steady nerves, and of a resolute nature. Must 
be an entomologist — coleopterist preferred. Apply, in 
person, at 77b, Brooke Street. Application must be made 
before twelve o'clock to-day. 

Now, I have already said that I was devoted to zoology. 
Of all branches of zoology, the studj^ of insects was the 
most attractive to me, and of all insects beetles were the 
species with which I was most familiar. Butterfly collectors 
are numerous, but beetles are far more varied, and more 
accessible in these islands than are butterflies. It was this 
fact which had attracted my attention to them, and I had 
myself made a collection which numbered some hundred 
varieties. As to the other requisites of the advertisement, 
I knew that my nerves could be depended upon, and I had 
won the weight-throwing competition at the inter-hospital 
sports. Clearly, I was the very man for the vacancy. 
Within five minutes of my having read the advertisement 
I was in a cab and on my way to Brooke Street. 

As I drove, I kept turning the matter over in my head 
and trying to make a guess as to what sort of employment 
it could be which needed such curious qualifications. A 
strong physique, a resolute nature, a medical training, and 
a knowledge of beetles — what connection could there be 
between these various requisites? And then there was the 
disheartening fact that the situation was not a permanent 



82 THE BEETLE HUNTER 

one, but terminable from day to day, according to the 
terms of the advertisement. The more I pondered over it 
the more unintelligible did it become ; but at the end of my 
meditations I always came back to the ground fact that, 
come what might, I had nothing to lose, that I was com- 
pletely at the end of my resources, and that I was ready 
for any adven ture, however desperate, which would put a 
few honest sovereigns into my pocket.. The man fears to 
fail who has to pay for his failure, but there was no penalty 
which Fortune could exact from me. I was like the gambler 
with empty pockets, who is still allowed to try his luck 
with the others. 

No. 77b, Brooke Street, was one of those dingy and 
yet imposing houses, dun-colored and flat-faced*, with the 
intensely respectable and solid air which marks the Georgian 
builder. As I alighted from the cab, a young man came 
out of the door and walked swiftly down the street. In 
passing me, I noticed that he cast an inquisitive and some- 
what malevolent glance at me, and I took the incident as 
a good omen, for his appearance was that of a rejected 
candidate, and if he resented my application it meant that 
the vacancy was not yet filled up. Full of hope, I ascended 
the broad steps and rapped with the heavy knocker. 

A footman in powder and livery opened the door. Clearly 
I was in touch with people of wealth and fashion. 

" Yes, sir.? " said the footman. 

" I came in answer to — " 

" Quite so, sir," said the footman. " Lord Linchmere 
will see you at once in the library." 

Lord Linchmere! I had vaguely heard the name, but 



THE BEETLE HUNTER 23 

could not for the instant recall anything about him. Fol- 
lowing the footman, I was shown into a large, book-lined 
room in which there was seated behind a writing-desk a 
small man with a pleasant, clean-shaven, mobile face, and 
long hair shot with gray, brushed back from his forehead. 
He looked me up and down with a very shrewd, penetra- 
ting glance, holding the card which the footman had given 
him in his right hand. Then he smiled pleasantly, and I 
felt that externally at any rate I possessed the qualifications 
which he desired. 

** You have come in answer to my advertisement. Dr. 
Hamilton? '' he asked. 

" Yes, sir." 

** Do you fulfill the conditions which are there laid 
down?" 

" I believe that I do." 

*' You are a powerful man, or so I should judge from 
your appearance." 

" I think that I am fairly strong." 

" And resolute? " 

** I believe so." 

*' Have you ever known what it was to be exposed to 
imminent danger? " 

" No, I don't know that I ever have." 

** But you think you would be prompt and cool at such 
a time? " 

" I hope so." 

** Well, I believe that you would. I have the more con- 
fidence in you because you do not pretend to be certain as 
to what you would do in a position that was new to you. 



24 THE BEETLE HUNTER 

My impression is that, so far as personal qualities go, you 
8^e the very man of whom I am in search. That being 
settled, we may pass on to the next point,*' 

"Which is?" 

" To talk to me about beetles.'* 

I looked across to see if he was joking, but, on the con- 
trary, he was leaning eagerly forward across hiis desk, and 
there was an expression something like anxiety in his eyes. 

" I am afraid that you do not know about beetles," he 
cried. 

" On the contrary, sir, it is the one scientific subject 
about which I feel that I really do know something." 

" I am overjoyed to hear it. Please talk to me about 
beetles." 

I talked. I do not profess to have said anything original 
upon the subject, but I gave a short sketch of the charac- 
teristics of the beetle, and ran over the more common species, 
with some allusions to the specimens in my own little col- 
lection and to the article upon " Burying Beetles " which 
I had contributed to the Journal of Entomological Science. 

" What ! not a collector? " cried Lord Linchmere. ** You 
don't mean that you are yourself a collector? " His eyes 
danced with pleasure at the thought. 

" You are certainly the very man in London for my pur- 
pose. I thought that among five millions of people there 
must be such a man, but the difficulty is to lay one's hands 
upon him. I have been extraordinarily fortunate in finding 
you." 

He rang a gong upon the table, and the footman en- 
tered. 

" Ask Lady Rossiter to have the goodness to step this 



THE BEETLE HUNTER 25 

way," said h is lordship^ and a few moments later the lady 
was ushered into the room. She was a small, middle-aged 
woman, very like Lord Linchmere in appearance, with the 
same quick, alert features and gray-black hair. The ex- 
pression of anxiety, however, which I had observed upon 
his face was very much more marked upon hers. Some great 
grief seemed to have cast its shadow over her features. 
As Lord Linchmere presented me she turned her face full 
upon me, and I was shocked to observe a half -healed scar 
extending for two inches over her right eyebrow. It was 
partly concealed by plaster, but none the less I could see 
that it had been a serious wound and not long inflicted. 

" Dr. Hamilton is the very man for our purpose, Eve- 
lyn," said Lord Linchmere. " He is actually a collector of 
beetles, and he has written articles upon the subject." 

" Really ! " said Lady Rossiter. " Then you must have 
heard of my husband. Every one who knows anything 
about beetles must have heard of Sir Thomas Rossiter." 

For the first time a thin little ray of light began to 
break into the obscure business. Here, at last, was a con- 
nection between these people and beetles. Sir Thomas 
Rossiter — he was the greatest authority upon the subject 
in the world. He had made it his life-long study, and had 
written a most exhaustive work upon it. I hastened to as- 
sure her that I had read and appreciated it. 

" Have you met my husband? " she asked. 

" No, I have not." 

" But you shall," said Lord Linchmere, with decision. 

The lady was standing beside the desk, and she put her 
hand upon his shoulder. It was obvious to me as I saw 
their faces together that they were brother and sister. 



26 THE BEETLE HUNTER 

"Are you really prepared for this, Charles? It is noble 
of you, but you fill me with fears.'* Her voice quavered 
%ith apprehension, and he appeared to me to be equally 
moved, though he was making strong efforts to conceal his 
agitation. 

" Yes, yes, dear ; it is all settled, it is all decided ; in 
fact, there is no other possible way, that I can see." 

" There is one obvious way." 

" No, no, Evelyn, I shall never abandon you — never. 
It will come right — depend upon it ; it will come right, 
and surely it looks like the interference of Providence that 
so perfect an instrument should be put into our hands." 

My position was embarrassing, for I felt that for the 
instant they had forgotten my presence. But Lord Linch- 
mere came back suddenly to me and to my engagement. 

** The business for which I want you. Dr. Hamilton, is 
that you should put yourself absolutely at my disposal. 
I wish you to come for a short journey with me, to remain 
always at my side, and to promise to do without question 
whatever I may ask you, however unreasonable it may ap- 
pear to you to be." 

" That is a good deal to ask," said I. 

" Unfortunately I cannot put it more plainly, for I do 
not myself know what turn matters may take. You may be 
sure, however, that you will not be asked to do anything 
which your conscience does not approve ; and I promise you 
that, when all is over, you will be proud to have been con- 
cerned in so good a work." 

" If it ends happily," said the lady. 

" Exactly ; if it ends happily," his lordship repeated. 

" And terms? " I asked. 



THE BEETLE HUNTER 27 

*' Twenty pounds a day." 

I was amazed at the sum, and must have showed my sur- 
prise upon my features. 

" It is a rare combination of qualities, as must have 
struck you when you first read the advertisement," said 
Lord Linchmere ; " such varied gifts may well command 
a high return, and I do not conceal from you that your 
duties might be arduous or even dangerous. Besides, it is 
possible that one or two days may bring the matter to an 
end." 

" Please God ! " sighed his sister. 

*' So now, Dr. Hamilton, may I rely upon your aid? " 

" Most undoubtedly," said I. " You have only to tell 
me what my duties are." 

** Your first duty will be to return to your home. You 
will pack up whatever you may need for a short visit to 
the country. We start together from Paddington Station 
at 3 :40 this afternoon." 

"Do we go far? " 

** As far as Pangboume. Meet me at the bookstall at 
3:30. I shall have the tickets. Good-by, Dr. Hamilton! 
And, by the way, there are two things which I should be 
very glad if you would bring with you, in case you have 
them. One is your case for collecting beetles and the other 
is a fitifik* and the thicker and heavier the better." 

You may imagine that I had plenty to think of from 
the time that I left Brooke Street until I set out to meet 
Lord Linchmere at Paddington. The whole fantastic busi- 
ness kept arranging and re-arranging itself in kaleido- 
scopic forms inside my brain, until I had thought out a 



28 THE BEETLE HUNTER 

dozen explanations, each of them more grotesquely im- 
probable than the last. And yet I felt that the truth must 
be something grotesquely improbable also. At last I gave 
up all attempts at finding a solution, and contented myself 
with exactly carrying out the instructions which I had re- 
ceived. With a hand valise, specimen-case, and a loaded 
cane, I was waiting at the Paddington bookstall when Lord 
Linchmere arrived. He was an even smaller man than I 
had thought — frail and peaky, with a manner which was 
more nervous than it had been in the morning. He wore a 
long, thick traveling ulster, and I observed that he carried 
a heavy blackthorn cudgel in his hand. 

** I have the tickets," said he, leading the way up the 
platform. *' This is our train. I have engaged a carriage, 
for I am particularly anxious to impress one or two things 
upon you while we travel down." 

And yet all that he had to impress upon me might have 
been said in a sentence, for it was that I was to remember 
that I was there as a protection to himself, and that I was 
not on any consideration to leave him for an instant. This 
he repeated again and again as our journey drew to a 
close, with an insistence which showed that his nerves were 
thoroughly shaken. 

"Yes," he said at last, in answer to my looks rather 
than to my words, " I am nervous, Dr. Hamilton. I have 
always been a timid man, and my timidity depends upon 
my frail physical health. But my soul is firm, and I can 
bring myself up to face a danger which a less nervous man 
might shrink from. What I am doing now is done from 
no compulsion, but entirely from a sense of duty, and yet 
it is, beyond doubt, a desperate risk. If things should go 



THE BEETLE HUNTER 29 

wrong, I will have some claims to the title of martyr." 

This eternal reading of riddles was too much for me. I 
felt that I must put a term to it. 

" I think it would be very much better, sir, if you were 
to trust me entirely,*' said I. " It is impossible for me to 
act effectively, when I do not know what are the objects 
which we have in view, or even where we are going." 

" Oh, as to where we are going, there need be no mystery 
about that," said he ; " we are going to Delamere Court, 
the residence of Sir Thomas Rossiter, with whose work 
you are so conversant. As to the exact object of our 
visit, I do not know that at this stage of the proceedings 
anything would be gained. Dr. Hamilton, by my taking 
you into my complete confidence. I may tell you that we 
are acting — I say * we,' because my sister. Lady Rossi- 
ter, takes the same view as myself — with the one object 
of preventing anything in the nature of a family scandal. 
That being so, you can imderstand that I am loath to give 
any explanations which are not absolutely necessary. It 
would be a different matter. Dr. Hamilton, if I were ask- 
ing your advice. As matters stand, it is only your active 
help which I need, and I will indicate to you from time 
to time how you can best give it." 

There was nothing more to be said, and a poor man 
can put up with a good deal for twenty pounds a day, but 
I felt none the less than Lord Linchmere was acting rather 
scurvily toward me. He wished to convert me into a pas- 
sive tool, like the blackthorn in his hand. With his sensi- 
tive disposition I could imagine, however, that scandal 
would be abhorrent to him, and I realized that he would 
not take me into his confidence until no other course was 



so THE BEETLE HUNTER 

open to him, I must trust to my own eyes and ears to solve 
the mystery, but I had every confidence that I should not 
trust to them in vain. 

Delamere Court lies a good five miles from Pangboume 
Station, and we drove for that distance in an open fly. 
Lord Linchmere sat in deep thought during the time, and 
he never opened his mouth until we were close to our des- 
tination. When he did speak it was to give me a piece of 
information which surprised me. 

" Perhaps you are not aware," said he, *' that I am a 
medical man like yourself? " 

*' No, sir, I did not know it.'* 

** Yes, I qualified in my younger days, when there were 
several lives between me and the peerage. I have not had 
occasion to practise, but I have found it a useful educa- 
tion, all the same. I never regretted the years which I 
devoted to medical study. These are the gates of Dela- 
mere Court.'* 

We had come to two high pillars crowned with heraldic 
monsters which flanked the opening of a winding avenue. 
Over the laurel bushes and rhododendrons I could see a 
long, many-gabled mansion, girdled with ivy, and toned 
to the warm, cheery, mellow glow of old brick-work. My 
eyes were still fixed in admiration upon this delightful 
house when my companion plucked nervously at my sleeve. 

" Here's Sir Thomas," he whispered. ** Please talk beetle 
all you can." 

A tall, thin figure, curiously angular and bony, had 
emerged through a gap in the hedge of laurels. In his 
hand he held a spud, and he wore gauntleted gardener's 
gloves. A broad brimmed, gray hat cast his face into 



THE BEETLE HUNTER 81 

shadow, but it struck me as exceedingly austere, with an 
ill-nourished beard and harsh, irregular features. The fly 
pulled up arid Lord Linchmere sprang out. 

"My dear Thomas, how are you?" said he, heartily. 

But the heartiness was by no means reciprocal. The 
owner of the grounds glared at me over his brother-in- 
law's shoulder, and I caught broken scraps of sen- 
tences — ^^ well-known wishes . . . hatred of strangers 
. . . unjustifiable intrusion . . . perfectly inex- 
cusable." Then there was a muttered explanation, and the 
two of them came over together to the side of the fly. 

" Let me present you to Sir Thomas Rossiter, Dr. 
Hamilton," said Lord Lindhmere. " You wiU find that you 
have a strong community of tastes." 

I bowed. Sir Thomas stood very stiffly, looking at me 
severely from under the broad brim of his hat. 

" Lord Linchmere tells me that you know something 
about beetles," said he. " What do you know about 
beetles?" 

" I know what I have learned from your work upon the 
coleoptera. Sir Thomas," I answered. 

*' Give me the names of the better-known species of the 
British scaraboei," said he. 

I had not expected an examination, but fortunately I 
was ready for one. My answers seemed to please him, for 
his stem features relaxed. 

*' You appear to have read my book with some profit, 
sir," said he. " It is a rare thing for me to meet any one 
who takes an intelligent interest in such matters. People 
can find time for such trivialities as sport or society, and 
yet the beetles are overlooked. I can assure you that the 



82 THE BEETLE HUNTER 

greater part of the Idiots in this part of the country arc 
unaware that I have ever written a book at all — I, the 
first man who ever described the true function of the ely- 
tra. I am glad to see you, sir, and I have no doubt that I 
can show you some specimens which will interest you.*' He 
stepped into the fly and drove up with us to the house, ex- 
pounding to me as we went some recent researches which 
he had made into the anatomy of the lady-bird. 

I have said that Sir Thomas Rossiter wore a large hat 
drawn down over his brows. As he entered the hall he un- 
covered himself, and I was at once aware of a singular 
characteristic which the hat had concealed. His forehead, 
which was naturally high, and higher still on account of 
receding hair, was in a continual state of movement. Some 
nervous weakness kept the muscles in a constant spasm, 
which sometimes produced a mere twitching and sometimes 
a curious rotary movement unlike anything which I had 
ever seen before. It was strikingly visible as he turned to- 
ward us after entering the study, and seemed the more 
singular from the contrast with the hard, steady, gray eyes 
which looked out from underneath those palpitating brows. 

*' I am sorry," said he, "that Lady Rossiter is not here 
to help me to welcome you. By the way, Charles, did Eve- 
lyn say anything about the date of her return? " 

" She wished to stay in town for a few more days,'' said 
Lord Linchmere. " You know how ladies' social duties ac- 
cumulate if they have been for some time in the country. 
My sister has many old friends in London at present." 

** Well, she is her own mistress, and I should not wish 
to alter her plans, but I shall be glad when I see her again. 
It is very lonely here without her company." 



THE BEETLE HUNTER 83 

** I was afraid that you might find it so, and that was 
partly why I ran down. My young friend, Dr. Hamilton, 
is so much interested in the subject which you have made 
your own, that I thought you would not mind his accom- 
panying me." 

" I lead a retired life. Dr. Hamilton, and my aversion 
to strangers grows upon me," said our host. " I have 
sometimes thought that my nerves are not so good as they 
were. My travels in search of beetles in my younger days 
took me into many malarious and unhealthy places. But 
a brother coleopterist like yourself is always a welcome 
guest, and I shall be deUghted if you will look over my col- 
lection, which I think that I may without exa gg efation 
describe as the best in Europe." 

And so no doubt it was. He had a huge oaken cabinet 
arranged in shallow drawers, and here, neatly ticketed and 
classified, were beetles from every corner of the earth, 
black, brown, blue, green, and mottled. Every now and 
then as he swept his hand over the lines and lines of im- 
paled insects he would catch up some rare specimen, and, 
handling it with as much deUcacy and reverence as if it 
were a precious relic, he would hold forth upon its pecu- 
liarities and the circumstances under which it came into 
his possession. It was evidently an unusual thing for him 
to meet with a sympathetic listener, and he talked and 
talked until the spring evening had deepened into night, 
and the gong announced that it was time to dress for din- 
ner. All the time Lord Linchmere said nothing, but he 
stood at his brother-in-law's elbow, and I caught him con- 
tinually shooting curious little, questioning glances into 
his face. And his own features expressed some strong emo- 



34» THE BEETLE HUNTER 

tion, apprehension, sympathy, expectation: I seemed to 
read them all. I was sure that Lord Linchmere was fearing 
something and awaiting something, but what that some- 
thing might be I could not imagine. 

The evening passed quietly but pleasantly, and I should 
have been entirely at my ease if it had not been for that 
continual sense of tension upon the part of Lord Linch- 
mere. As to our host, I found that he improved upon ac- 
quaintance. He spoke constantly with affection of his ab- 
sent wife, and also of his little son, who had recently been 
sent to school. The house, he said, was not the same with- 
out them. If it were not for his scieixtific studies, he did 
not know how he could get through the days. After din- 
ner we smoked for some time in the billiard-room, and fin- 
ally went early to bed. 

And then it was that, for the first time, the suspicion 
that Lord Linchmere was a lunatic crossed my mind. He 
followed me into my bedroom, when our host had retired. 

" Doctor," said he, speaking in a low, hurried voice, 
*'you must come with me. You must spend the night in 
my bedroom." 

" What do you mean ? " 

" I prefer not to explain. But this is part of your du- 
ties. My room is close by, and you can return to your own 
before the servant calls you in the morning." 

"But why?" I asked. 

" Because I am nervous of being alone," said he. 
" That's the reason, since you must have a reason." 

It seemed rank lunacy, but the argument of those twenty 
pounds would overcome many objections. I followed him 
to his room. 



THE BEETLE HUNTER 35 

"Well," said I, "there's only room for one in that 
bed." 

" Only one shall occupy it," said he. 

" And the other ? " 

** Must remain, on watch." 

** Why? " said I. " One would think you expected to be 
attacked." 

" Perhaps I do." 

*' In that case, why not lock your door? " 

" Perhaps I want to be attacked." 

It looked more and more like lunacy. However, there 
was nothing for it but to submit. I shrugged my shoul- 
ders and sat down in the arm-chair beside the empty fire- 
place. 

" I am to remain on watch, then? " said I, ruefully. 

*' We will divide the night. If you will watch until two, 
I will watch the remainder." 

" Very good." 

*^ Call me at two o'clock, then." 

« I will do so." 

** Keep your ears open, and if you hear any sounds 
wake me instantly — instantly, you hear? " 

" You can rely upon it." I tried to look as solemn as 
he did. 

** And for God's sake don't go to sleep," said he, and 
so, taking off only his coat, he threw the coverlet over him 
and settled down for the night. 

It was a melancholy vigil, and made more so by my 
own sense of its folly. Supposing that by any chance Lord 
Liinchmere had cause to suspect that he was subject to 
danger in the hous6 of Sir Thomas Rossiter, why on earth 



86 THE BEETLE HUNTER 

could he not lock his door and so protect himself? His 
own answer that he might wish to be attacked was absurd. 
Why should he possibly wish to be attacked? And who 
would wish to attack him? Clearly, Lord Linchmere was 
suffering from some singular delusion, and the result was 
that on an imbecile pretext I was to be deprived of my 
night's rest. Still, however, absurd, I was determined to 
carry out his injunctions to the letter as long as I was in 
his employment. I sat therefore beside the empty fireplace, 
and listened to a sonorous chiming clock somewhere down 
the passage, which gurgled and struck every quarter of 
an hour. It was an endless vigil. Save for that single 
clock, an absolute silence reigned throughout the great 
house. A small lamp stood on the table at my elbow, throw- 
ing a circle of light round my chair, but leaving the cor- 
ners of the room draped in shadow. On the bed Lord Linch- 
mere was breathing peacefully. I envied him his quiet 
sleep, and again and again my own eyelids drooped, but 
every time my sense of duty came to my help, and I sat 
up, rubbing my eyes and pinching myself with a determin- 
ation to see my irrational watch to an end. 

And I did so. From down the passage came the chimes 
of two o'clock, and I laid my hand upon the shoulder of 
the sleeper. Instantly he was sitting up, with an expres- 
sion of the keenest interest upon his face. 

" You have heard something? " 

*' No, sir. It is two o'clock." 

*^ Very good. I will watch. You can go to sleep." 

I lay down under the coverlet as he had done, and was 
soon imconscious. My last recollection was of that circle of 



THE BEETLE HUNTER 87 

lamplight, and of the small, hunched-up figure and strained 
anxious face of Lord Linchmere in the center of it. 

How long I slept I do not know; but I was suddenly 
aroused by a sharp tug at my sleeve. The room was in 
darkness, but a hot smell of oil told me that the lamp had 
only that instant been extinguished. 

** Quick ! Quick ! " said Lord Linchmere's voice in my 
ear. 

I sprang out of bed, he still dragging at my arm. 

" Over here ! " he whispered and pulled me into a comer 
of the room. " Hush ! Listen ! " 

In the silence of the night I could distinctly hear that 
someone was coming down the corridor. It was a stealthy 
step, faint and intermittent, as of a man who paused cau- 
tiously after every stride. Sometimes for half a minute 
there was no sound, and then came the shuffle and creak 
which told of a fresh advance. My companion was tremb- 
ling with excitement. His hand which still held my sleeve 
twitched like a branch in the wind. 

" What is it? " I whispered. 

"It's he!" 

"Sir Thomas?'' 

" Yes." 

" What does he want? " 

" Hush ! Do nothing until I tell you." 

I was conscious now that someone was trying the door. 
There was the faintest little rattle from the handle, and 
then I dimly saw a thin slit of subdued light. There was 
a lamp burning somewhere far down the passage, and it 
just sufficed to make the outside visible from the darkness 



88 THE BEETLE HUNTER 

of our room. The grayish slit grew broader and broader, 
very gradually, very gently, and then outlined against it 
I saw the dark figure of a man. He was squat and crouch- 
ing, with the silhouette of a bulky and m isshapen dwarf. 
Slowly the door swung open with this ominous shape framed 
in the center of it. And then, in an instant the crouching 
figure shot up, there was a tiger spring across the room, 
an/i thud, thud, thud, came three tremendous blows from 
some heavy object upon the bed. 

I was so paralyzed with amazement that I stood motion- 
less and staring until I was aroused by a yell for help from 
my companion. The open door shed enough light for me 
to see the outline of things, and there was little Lord Linch- 
mere with his arms round the neck of his brother-in-law, 
holding bravely on to him like a game bull-terrier with his 
teeth into a gaunt deerhound. The tall, bony man dashed 
himself about, writhing round and round to get a grip 
upon his assailant ; but the other, clutching on from behind, 
still kept his hold, though his shrill, frightened cries 
showed how unequal he felt the contest to be. I sprang to 
the rescue, and the two of us managed to throw Sir Thomas 
to the ground, though he made his teeth meet in my shoul- 
der. With all my youth and weight and strength, it was 
a desperate struggle before we could master his frenzied 
struggles ; but at last we secured his arms with the waist- 
cord of the dressing-gown which he was wearing. I was 
holding his legs while Lord Linchmere was endeavoring 
to relight the lamp, when there came the pattering of many 
feet in the passage, and the butler and two footmen, who 
had been alarmed by the cries, rushed into the room. With 
their aid we had no further difficulty in securing our pris- 



THE BEETLE HUNTER 89 

oner, who lay foaming and glaring upon the ground. One 
glance at his face was enough to prove that he was a dan- 
gerous maniac, while the short, heavy hammer which lay 
beside the bed showed how murderous had been his inten- 
tions. 

" Do not use any violence ! '' said Lord Linchmere, as 
we raised the struggling man to his feet. "He will have 
a period of stupor after this excitement. I believe that it 
is coming on already." As he spoke the convulsions, became 
less violent, and the madman's head fell forward upon his 
breast, as if he were overcome by sleep. We led him down 
the passage and stretched him upon his own bed, where he 
lay unconscious, breathing heavily. 

" Two of you will watch him," said Lord Linchmere. 
**And now, Dr. Hamilton, if you will return with me to 
my room, I will give you the explanation which my horror 
of scandal has perhaps caused me to delay too long. Come 
what may, you will never have cause to regret your share 
in this night's work. 

" This case may be made clear in a very few words," 
he continued, when we were alone. " My poor brother-in- 
law is one of the best fellows upon earth, a loving husband 
and an estimable father, but he comes from a stock which 
is deeply tainted with insanity. He has more than once 
had homicidal outbreaks, which are the more painful be- 
cause his inclination is always to attack the very person to 
whom he is most attached. His son was sent away to school 
to avoid this danger, and then came an attempt upon my 
sister, his wife, from which she escaped with injuries that 
you may have observed when you met her in London. You 
understand that he knows nothing of the matter when he 



40 THE BEETLE HUNTER 

is in his sound senses, and would ridicule the suggestion 
that he could under any circumstances injure those whom 
he loves so dearly. It is often, as you know, a characteris- 
tic of such maladies that it is absolutely impossible to con- 
vince the man who suffers from them of their existence. 

" Our great object was, of course, to get him under re- 
straint before he could stain his hands with blood, but the 
matter was full of difficulty. He is a recluse in his habits, 
and would not see any medical man. Besides, it was nec- 
essary for our purpose that the medical man should con- 
vince himself of his insanity; and he is sane as you or I, 
save on these very rare occasions. But, fortunately, before 
he has these attacks, he always shows certain premonitory 
symptoms, which are providential danger-signals, warning 
us to be upon our guard. The chief of these is that nervous 
contortion of the forehead which you must have observed. 
This is a phenomenon which always appears from three to 
four days before his attacks of frenzy. The moment it 
showed itself his wife came into town on some pretext, and 
took refuge in my house in Brooke Street. 

" It remained for me to convince a medical man of Sir 
Thomas's insanity, without which it is impossible to put 
him where he could do no harm. The first problem was how 
to get a medical man into his house. I bethought me of his 
interest in beetles, and his love for anyone who shared his 
tastes. I advertised, therefore, and was fortunate enough 
to find in you the very man I wanted. A stout companion 
was necessary, for I knew that the lunacy could only be 
proved by a murderous assault, and I had every reason to 
believe that that assault would be made upon myself, since 
he had the warmest regard for me in his moments of sanity. 



THE BEETLE HUNTER 41 

I think your intelligence will supply all the rest. I did not 
know that the attack would come by night, but I thought 
it very probable, for the crises of such cases usually do oc- 
cur in the early hours of the morning. I am a very nerv- 
ous man myself, but I saw no other way in which I could 
remove this terrible danger from my sister's life. I need 
not ask you whether you are willing to sign the lunacy 
papers." 

" Undoubtedly. But two signatures are necessary." 
" You forget that I am myself a holder of a medical 
degree. I have the papers on a side-table here, so if you 
will be good enough to sign them now, we can have the pa- 
tient removed in the morning." 

So that was my visit to Sir Thomas Rossiter, the fam- 
ous beetle-hunter, and that was also my first step upon the 
ladder of success, for Lady Rossiter and Lord Linchmere 
have proved to be stanch friends, and they have never 
forgotten my association with them in the time of their 
need. Sir Thomas is out and said to be cured, but I still 
think that if I spent another night at Delamere Court, I 
should be inclined to lock my door upon the inside. 



THE MAN WITH THE WATCHES 

THERE are many who will still bear in mind the 
singular circumstances which, under the heading 
of the Rugby Mystery, filled many columns of 
the daily Press in the spring of the year 189S. Coming 
as it did at a period of exceptional dullness, it attracted 
perhaps rather more attention than it deserved, but it of- 
fered to the public that mixture of the whimsical and the 
tragic which is most stimulating to the popular imagina- 
tion. Interest dropped, however, when, after weeks of fruit- 
less investigation, it was found that no final explanation 
of the facts was forthcoming, and the tragedy seemed 
from that time to the present to have finally taken its place 
in the dark catalogue of inexplicable and unexpiated 
crimes. A recent communication (the authenticity of which 
appears to be above question) has, however, thrown some 
new and clear light upon the matter. Before laying it be- 
fore the public it would be as well, perhaps, that I should 
refresh their memories as to the singular facts upon which 
this commentary is founded. These facts were briefly as 
follows : — • 

At five o'clock on the evening of the 18th of March in 
the year already mentioned a train left Euston Station for 
Manchester. It was a rainy, squally day, which grew wilder 
as it progressed, so it was by no means the weather in 
which anyone would travel who was not driven to do so by 

42 



THE MAN WITH THE WATCHES 43 

necessity. The train, however, is a favorite one among 
Manchester business men who are returning from town, 
for it does the journey in four hours and twenty minutes, 
with only three stoppages upon the way. In spite of the 
inclement evening it was, therefore, fairly well filled upon 
the occasion of which I speak. The guard of the train was 
a tried servant of the company — a man who had worked 
for twenty-two years without blemish or complaint. His 
name was John Palmer. 

The station clock was upon the stroke of five, and the 
guard was about to give the customary signal to the en- 
gine-driver when he observed two belated passengers hurry- 
ing down the platform. The one was an exceptionally tall 
man, dressed in a long black overcoat with Astrakhan col- 
lar and cuffs. I have already said that the evening was an 
inclement one, and the tall traveler had the high, warm 
collar turned up to protect his throat against the bitter 
March wind. He appeared, as far as the guard could 
judge by so hurried an inspection, to be a man between 
fifty and sixty years of age, who had retained a good deal 
of the vigor and activity of his youth. In one hand |ie 
carried a brown leather Gladstone bag. His companion was 
a lady, tall and erect, walking with a vigorous step which 
out-paced the gentleman beside her. She wore a long, fawn- 
colored dust-cloak, a black, close-fitting toque, and a dark 
veil which concealed the greater part of her face. The two 
might very well have passed as father and daughter. They 
walked swiftly down the line of carriages, glancing in at 
the windows, until the guard, John Palmer, overtook them. 

" Now, then, sir, look sharp, the train is going," said 
he. 



44 THE MAN WITH THE WATCHES 

" First-class," the man answered. 

The guard turned the handle of the nearest door. In 
the carriage, which he had opened, there sat a small man 
with a cigar in his mouth. His appearance seems to have 
impressed itself upon the guard's memory, for he was pre- 
pared, afterward, to describe or to identify him. He was 
a man of thirty-four or thirty-five years of age, dressed 
in some gray material, sharp-nosed, alert, with a ruddy, 
weather-beaten face, and a small, closely cropped black 
beard. He glanced up as the door was opened. The tall 
man paused with his foot upon the step. 

" This is a smoking compartment. The lady dislikes 
smoke," said he, looking round at the guard. 

*' All right ! Here you are, sir !" said John Palmer. He 
slammed the door of the smoking carriage, opened that of 
the next one, which was empty, and thrust the two trav- 
elers in. At the same moment he sounded his whistle and 
the wheels of the train began to move. The man with the 
cigar was at the window of his carriage, and said some- 
thing to the guard as he rolled past him, but the words 
were lost in the bustle of the departure. Palmer stepped 
into the guard's van, as it came up to him, and thought 
no more of the incident. 

Twelve minutes after its departure the train reached 
Willesden Junction, where it stopped for a very short inter- 
val. An examination of the tickets has made it certain that 
no one either joined or left it at this time, and no passen- 
ger was seen to alight upon the platform. At 6:14 the 
journey to Manchester was resumed, and Rugby was 
reached at 6:50, the express being five minutes late. 

At Rugby the attention of the station officials was drawn 



THE MAN WITH THE WATCHES 45 

to the fact that the door of one of the first-class carnages 
was open. An examination of that compartment, and of 
its neighbor, disclosed a remarkable state of affairs. 

The smoking carriage in which the short, red-faced man 
with the black beard had been seen was now empty. Save 
for a half -smoked cigar, there was no trace whatever of its 
recent occupant. The door of this carriage was fastened. 
In the next compartment, to which attention had been orig- 
inally drawn, there was no sign either of the gentleman 
with the Astrakhan collar or of the. young^ lady who ac- 
companied him. All three passengers had disappeared. On 
the other hand, there was found upon the floor of this car- 
riage — the one in which the tall traveler and the lady 
had been — a young man, fashionably dressed and of ele- 
gant appearance. He lay with his knees drawn up, and his 
head resting against the further door, an elbow upon 
either seat. A bullet had penetrated his heart and his death 
must have been instantaneous. No one had seen such a man 
enter the train, and no railway ticket was found in his 
pocket, neither were there any markings upon his linen, 
nor papers nor personal property which might help to 
identify him. Who he was, whence he had come, and how 
he had met his end were each as great a mystery as what 
had occurred to the three people who had started an hour 
and a half before from Willesden in those two compart- 
ments. 

I have said that there was no personal property which 
might help to identify him, but it is true that there was 
one peculiarity about this unknown young man which was 
much commented upon at the time. In his pockets were 
found n o fewer than six valuable gold watches, three in the 



46 THE MAN WITH THE WATCHES 

various pockets of his waistcoat, one in his ticket-pocket, 
one in his breast-pocket, and one small one in a leather 
strap and fastened round his left wrist. The obvious ex- 
planation that the man was a pick-pocket, and that this 
was his plunder, was discounted by the fact that all six 
were of American make, and of a type which is rare in Eng- 
land. Three of them bore the mark of the Rochester Watch- 
making Company ; one was by Mason, of Elmira ; one was 
unmarked; and the small one, which was highly jeweled 
and ornamented, was from Tiffany, of New York. The 
other contents of his pocket consisted of an ivory knife 
with a corkscrew by Rodgers, of SReffield ; a small circular 
mirror, one inch in diameter ; a re-admission slip to the Ly- 
ceum theater; a silver box full of vesta matches, and a 
brown leather cigar-case containing two cheroots — also 
two pounds fourteen shillings in money. It was clear, then, 
that whatever motives may have led to his death, robbery 
was not among them. As already mentioned, there were no 
markings upon the man's linen, which appeared to be new, 
and no tailor's name upon his coat. In appearance he was 
young, short, smooth cheeked, and delicately featured. 
One of his front teeth was conspicuously stopped with gold. 
• On the discovery of the tragedy an examination was in- 
stantly made of the tickets of all passengers, and the num- 
ber of the passengers themselves was counted. It was found 
that only three tickets were unaccounted for, correspond- 
ing to the three travelers who were missing. The express 
was then allowed to proceed, but a new guard was sent with 
it, and John Palmer was detained as a witness at Rugby. 
The carriage which included the two compartments in 
question was uncoupled and side-tracked. Then, on the 



THE MAN WITH THE WATCHES 47 

arrival of Inspector Vane, of Scotland Yard, and of Mr. 
Henderson, a detective in the service of the railway com- 
pany, an exhaustive inquiry was made into all the circum- 
stances. 

That crime had been committed was certain. The bullet, 
which appeared to have come from a small pistol or revol- 
ver, had been fired from some little distance, as there was 
no scorching of the clothes. No weapon was found in the 
compartment (which finally disposed of the theory of sui- 
cide), nor was there any sign of the brown leather bag 
which the guard had seen in the hand of the tall gentle- 
man. A lady's parasol was found upon the rack, but no 
other trace was to be seen of the travelers in either of the 
sections. Apart from the. crime, the question of how or why 
three passengers (one of them a lady) could get out of 
the train, and one other get in during the unbroken run 
between Willesden and Rugby, was one which excited the 
utmost curiosity among the general public, and gave rise 
to much speculation in the London Press. 

John Palmer, the guard, was able at the inquest to give 
some evidence which threw a little light upon the matter. 
There was a spot between Tring and Cheddington, accord- 
ing to his statement, where, on account of some repairs to 
the line, the train had for a few minutes slowed down to a 
pace not exceeding eight or ten miles an hour. At that 
place it might be possible for a man, or even for an ex- 
ceptionally active woman, to have left the train without 
serious injury. It was true that a gang of platelayers was 
there, and that they had seen nothing, but it was their cus- 
tom to stand in the middle between the metals, and the open 
carriage door was upon the far side, so that it was con- 



48 THE MAN WITH THE WATCHES 

ceivable that someone might have alighted unseen, as the 
darkness would by that time be drawing in. A steep em- 
bankment would instantly screen anyone who sprang from 
the observation of the navvies. 

The guard also deposed that there was a good deal of 
movement upon the platform at Willesden Junction, and 
that though it was certain that no one had either joined 
or left the train there, it was still quite possible that some 
of the passengers might have changed unseen from one 
compartment to another. It was by no means uncommon 
for a gentleman to finish his cigar in a smoking carriage 
and then to change to a clearer atmosphere. Supposing 
that the man with the black beard had done so at Willes- 
den (and the half -smoked cigar upon the floor seemed to 
favor the supposition), he would naturally go into the 
nearest section, which would bring him into the company 
of the two other actors in this drama. Thus the first stage 
of the affair might be surmised without any great breach 
of probability. But what the second stage had been, or 
how the final one had been arrived at, neither the guard nor 
the experienced detective oflicers could suggest. 

A careful examination of the line between Willesden and 
Rugby resulted in one discovery which might or might not 
have a bearing upon the tragedy. Near Tring, at the very 
place where the train slowed down, there was found at the 
bottom of the embankment a small pocket Testament, very 
shabby and worn. It was printed by the Bible Society of 
London, and bore an inscription : " From John to Alice. 
Jan. 13th, 1856," upon the fly-leaf. Underneath was writ- 
ten : ** James, July 4th, 1859," and beneath that again : 
" Edward, Nov. 1st, 1869," all the entries being in the 



THE MAN WITH THE WATCHES 49 

same handwriting. This was the only clew, if it could be 
called a clew, which the police obtained, and the coroner's 
verdict of " Murder by a person or persons unknown '* was 
the unsatisfactory ending of a singular case. Advertise- 
ments, rewards and inquiries proved equally fruitless, and 
nothing could be found which was solid enough to form the 
basis for a profitable investigation. 

It would be a mistake, however, to suppose that no theo- 
ries were formed to account for the facts. On the con- 
trary, the Press, both in England and in America, teemed 
with suggestions and suppositions, most of which were qb- 
viousl^LJkbsurd. The fact that the watches were of Amer- 
ican make, and some peculiarities in connection witBPthe 
gold stopping of his front tooth, appeared to indicate that 
the deceased was a citizen of the United States, though his 
linen, clothes, and boots were undoubtedly of British man- 
ufacture. It was surmised, by some, that he was concealed 
under the seat, and that, being discovered, he was for some 
reason, possibly because he had overheard their guilty se- 
crets, put to death by his fellow passengers. When cou- 
pled with generalities as to the ferocity and cunning of 
anarchical and other secret societies, this theory sounded as 
plausible as any. 

The fact that he should be without a ticket would be 
consistent with the idea of concealment, and it was well 
known that women played a prominent part in the Nihil- 
istic propaganda. On the other hand, it was clear from 
the guard's statement, that the man must have been hidden 
there before the others arrived, and how unlikely the coin- 
cidence that conspirators should stray exactly into the very, 
compartment in which a spy was already concealed! Be- 



60 THE MAN WITH THE WATCHES 

sides, this explanation ignored the man in the smoking car- 
riage, and gave no reason at all for his simultaneous dis- 
appearance. The police had little difficulty in showing that 
such a theory would not cover the facts, but they were un- 
prepared in the absence of evidence to advance any alterna- 
tive explanation. 

There was a letter in the Daily Gazette^ ojcer-thfi-jsigna-^ 
ture.pf a^ well-known criminal investigator, which gave rise 
to considerable discussion at the time. He had formed a 
hjrpothesis which had at least ingenuity to recommend it, 
and 1 cannot do better than append it in his own words. 

** Whatever may be the truth," said he, " it must de- 
pend upon some bizarre and rare combination of events, so 
we need have no hesitation in postulating such events in 
our explanation. In the absence of data we must abandon 
the analytic or scientific method of investigation, and must 
approach it in the synthetic fashion. In a word, instead of 
taking known events and deducing from them what has oc- 
curred, we must build up a fanciful explanation if it will 
only be consistent with known events. We can then test 
this explanation by any fresh facts which may arise. If 
they all fit into their places, the probability is that we are 
upon the right track, and with each fresh fact this proba- 
bility increases in a geometrical progression until the evi- 
dence becomes final and convincing. 

" Now, there is one most remarkable and suggestive fact 
which has not met with the attention which it deserves. 
There is a local train running through Harrow and King's 
Langley, which is timed in such a way that the express 
must have overtaken it at or about the period when it 
eased down its speed to eight miles an hour on account of 



THE MAN WITH THE WATCHES 61 

the repairs of the line. The two trains would at that time 
be traveling in the same direction at a similar rate of speed 
and upon parallel lines. It is within everyone's experience 
how, under such circumstances, the occupant of each car- 
riage can see very plainly the passengers in the other car- 
riages opposite to him. The lamps of the express had been 
lit at Willesden, so that each compartment was brightly 
illuminated, and most visible to an observer from outside. 

'' Now, the sequence of events as I reconstruct them 
would be after this fashion. This young man with the ab- 
noraiaLnumber of watches was alone in the carriage of the 
slow train. His ticket, with his papers and gloves and other 
things, was we will suppose, on the seat beside him. He 
was probably an American, and also probably a man of 
weak intellect. The excessive wearing of jewelry is an 
early symptom in some forms of mania. 

" As he sat watching the carriages of the express which 
were (on account of the state of the line) going at the 
same pace as himself, he suddenly saw some people in it 
whom he knew. We will suppose for the sake of our the- 
ory that these people were a woman whom he loved and a 
man whom he hated — and who in return hated him. The 
young man was excitable and impulsive. He opened the 
door of his carriage, stepped from the footboard of the 
local train to the footboard of the ejcpress, opened the 
other door, and made his way into the presence of these two 
people. The feat (on the supposition that the trains were 
going at the same pace) is by no means so perilous as it 
might appear. 

" Having now got our young man without his ticket 
into the carriage in which the elder man and the young 



62 THE MAN WITH THE WATCHES 

woman are traveling, it is not difficult to imagine that a 
violent scene ensued. It is possible that the pair were also 
Americans, which is the more probable as the man carried 
a weapon — an ynusual thing in England. If our supposi- 
tion of incipient mania is correct, the young man is likely 
to have assaulted the other. As the upshot of the quarrel 
the elder man shot the intruder, and then made his escape 
from the carriage, taking the young lady with him. We 
will suppose that all this happened very rapidly, and that 
the train was still going at so slow a pace that it was not 
difficult for them to leave it. A woman might leave a train 
going at eight miles an hour. As a matter of fact, we 
know that this woman did do so. 

"And now we have to fit in the man in the smoking car- 
riage. Presuming that we have, up to this point, recon- 
structed the tragedy correctly, we shall find nothing in 
this other man to cause us to reconsider our conclusions. 
According to my theory, this man saw the young fellow 
cross from one train to the other, saw him open the door, 
heard the pistol-shot, saw the two fugitives spring out on 
to the line, realized that murder had been done, and sprang 
out himself in pursuit. Why he has never been heard of 
since — whether he met his own death in the pursuit, or 
whether, as is more likely, he was made to realize that it 
was not a case for his interference — is a detail which we 
have at present no means of explaining. I acknowledge 
that there are some difficulties in the way. At first sight, 
it might seem improbable that at such a moment a mur- 
derer would burden himself in his flight with a brown leather 
bag. My answer is that he was well aware that if the bag 
were found his identity would be established. It was ab- 



THE MAN WITH THE WATCHES 63 

solutely necessary for him to take it with him. My theory 
stands or falls upon one point, and I call upon the railway 
company to make strict inquiry as to whether a ticket was 
found unclaimed in the local train through Harrow and 
King's Langley upon the 18th of March. If such a ticket 
were found my case is proved. If not, my theory may 
still be the correct one, for it is conceivable either that he 
traveled without a ticket or that his ticket was lost." 

To this elaborate and plausible hypothesis the answer 
of the police and of the company was, first, that no such 
ticket was found ; secondly, that the slow train would never 
run parallel to the express; and, thirdly, that the local 
train had been stationary in King's Langley Station when 
the express, going at fifty miles an hour, had flashed past 
it. So perished the only satisfying explanation, and five 
years have elapsed without supplying a new one. Now, at 
last, there comes a statement which covers all the facts, 
and which must be regarded as authaatic. It took the shape 
of a letter dated from New York, and addressed to the same 
criminal investigator whose theory I have quoted. It is 
given here in extenso, with the exception of the two open- 
ing paragraphs, which are personal in their nature : — 

" You'll excuse me if I'm not very free with names. 
There's less reason now than there was five years ago when 
mother was still living. But for all that, I had rather cover 
up our tracks all I can. But I owe you an explanation, for 
if your idea of it was wrong, it was a mighty ingenious 
one all the same. I'll have to go back a little so as you 
may understand all about it. 

" My people came from Bucks, England, and emigrated 
to the States in the early fifties. They settled in Roches- 



64 THE MAN WITH THE WATCHES 

ter, in the State of New York, where my father rar j 
large dry goods store. There were only two sons : myr^ 
James, and my brother, Edward. I was ten years cMlder 
than my brother, and after my father died I sort of pctook 
the place of a father to him, as an elder brother v^ould. 
He was a bright, spirited boy, and just one of theua most 
beautiful creatures that ever lived. But there was i ^scjwa js 
a soft spot in him, and it was like mold in cheese, fc.V it 
spread and spread, and nothing that you could do woLVild 
stop it. Mother saw it just as clearly as I did, but she 
went on spoiling him all the same, for he had such a way 
with him that you could refuse him nothing. I did all I 
could to hold him in, and he hated me for my pains. 

"At last he fairly got his head, and nothing that we 
could do would stop him. He got off into New York, and 
went rapidly from bad to worse. At first he was only fast, 
and then he was criminal; and then, at the end of a year 
or two, he was one of the most notorious young crooks in 
the city. He had formed a friendship with Sparrow Mac- 
Coy, who was at the head of his profession "as a bunco- 
steerer, green goodsman, and general rascal. They took to 
card-sharping, and frequented some of the best hotels in 
New York. My brother was an excellent actor (he might 
have made an honest name for himself if he had chosen), 
and he would take the parts of a young Englishman of 
title, of a simple lad from the West, or of a college under- 
graduate, whichever suited Sparrow MacCoy's purpose. 
And then one day he dressed himself as a girl, and he 
carried it off so well, and made himself such a valuable 
decoy, that it was their favorite game afterward. They 
had made it right with Tammany and with the police, so 



THE MAN WITH THE WATCHES 66 

it seemed as if nothing could ever stop them, for those 
were in the days before the Lexow Commission, and if you 
only had a pull, you could do pretty nearly everything 
you wanted. 

"And nothing would have stopped them if they had 
only stuck to cards and New York, but they must needs 
come up Rochester way, and forge a name upon a check. 
It was^y brother that did it, though everyone knew that 
it was under the influence of Sparrow MacCoy. I bought 
up that check, and a pretty sum it cost me. Then I went 
to my brother, laid it before him on the table, and swore to 
him that I would prosecute if he did not clear out of the 
country. At first he simply laughed. I could not presecute, 
he said, without breaking our mother's heart, and he knew 
that I would not do that. I made him understand, however, 
that our mother's heart was being broken in any case, and 
that I had set firm on the point that I would rather see him 
in a Rochester jail than in a New York hotel. So at last 
he gave in, and he made me a solemn promise that he would 
see Sparrow MacCoy no more, that he would go to Europe, 
and that he would turn his hand to any honest trade that I 
helped him to get. I took him down right away to an old 
family friend, Joe Willson, who is an exporter of American 
watches and clocks, and I got him to give Edward an 
agency in London, with a small salary and a 15 per cent, 
commission on all business. His manner and appearance 
were so good that he won the old man over at once, and 
within a week he was sent off to London with a case full of 
samples. 

" It seemed to me that this business of the check had 
really given my brother a fright, and that there was some 



66 THE MAN WITH THE WATCHES 

chance of his settling down into an honest line of life. My 
mother had spoken with him, and what she said had touched 
him, for she had always been the best of mothers to him, 
and he had been the great sorrow of her life. But I knew 
that this man Sparrow MacCoy had a great influence over 
Edward, and my chance of keeping the lad straight lay in 
breaking the connection between them. I had a friend in 
the New York detective force, and through him I kept a 
watch upon MacCoy. When within a fortnight of my 
brother's sailing I heard that MacCoy had taken a berth in 
the Etruria, I was as certain as if he had told me that he 
was going over to England for the purpose of coaxing 
Edward back again into the ways that he had left. In an 
instant I had resolved to go also, and to put my influence 
against MacCoy's. I knew it was a losing fight, but I 
thought, and my mother thought, that it was my duty. 
We passed the last night together in prayer for my suc- 
cess, and she gave me her own Testament that my father had 
given her on the day of their marriage in the Old Country, 
so that I might always wear it next my heart. 

" I was a fellow-traveler, on the steamship, with Sparrow 
MacCoy, and at least I had the satisfaction of spoiling his 
little game for the voyage. The very first night I went into 
the smoking-room, and found him at the head of a card 
table, with half-a-dozen young fellows who were carrying 
their full purses and their empty skulls over to Europe. 
He was settling down for his harvest, and a rich one it 
would have been. But I soon changed all that. 

" ' Gentlemen,' said I, * are you aware whom you are 
playing with? ' 



THE MAN WITH THE WATCHES 67 

" * What's that to you? You mind your own business ! ' 
said he, with an oath. 

" * Who is it, anyway? ' asked one of the dudes. 

" * He's Sparrow MacCoy, the most notorious card- 
sharper in the States.' 

" Up he jumped with a bottle in his hand, but he remem- 
bered that he was under the flag of the effete Old Country, 
where law and order run, and Tammany has no pull. Jail 
and the gallows wait for violence and murder, and there's 
no slipping out by the back door on board an ocean liner. 

'* * Prove your words, you — ! ' said he. 

" * I will ! ' said I. * If you will turn up your right shirt- 
sleeve to the shoulder, I will either prove my words or I 
will eat them.' 

" He turned white and said not a word. You see, I knew 
something of his ways, and I was aware that part of the 
mechanism which he and all such sharpers use consists of an 
elastic down the arm with a clip just above the wrist. It is 
by means of this clip that they withdraw from their hands 
the cards which they do not want, while they substitute 
other cards from another hiding-place. I reckoned on it be- 
ing there, and it was. He cursed me, slunk out of the sa- 
loon, and was hardly seen again during the voyage. For 
once, at any rate, I got level with Mister Sparrow Mac- 
Coy. 

'' But he soon had his revenge upon me, for when it 
came to influencing my brother he outweighed me every 
time. Edward had kept himself straight in London for the 
first few weeks, and had done some business with his Ameri- 
can watches, until this villain came across his path once 



S8 THE MAN WITH THE WATCHES 

more. I did my best, but the best was little enough. The 
next thing I heard there had been a scandal at one of the 
Northumberland Avenue hotels : a traveler had been fleeced 
of a large sum by two confederate card-sharpers, and the 
matter was in the hands of Scotland Yard. The first I 
learned of it was in the evening paper, and I was at once 
certain that my brother and MacCoy were back at their old 
games. I hurried at once to Edward's lodgings. They told 
me that he and a tall gentleman (whom I recognized as 
MacCoy) had gone off together, and that he had left the 
lodgings and taken his things with him. The landlady had 
heard them give several directions to the cabman, ending 
with Euston Station, and she had accidentally overheard 
the tall gentleman saying something about Manchester. She 
believed that that was their destination. 

*' A glance at the time-table showed me that the most 
likely train was at five, though there was another at 4 :86 
which they might have caught. I had only time to get the 
later one, but found no sign of them either at the depot or 
in the train. They must have gone on by the earlier one, 
so I determined to follow them to Manchester and search 
for them in the hotels there. One last appeal to my brother 
by all that he owed to my mother might even now be the 
salvation of him. My nerves were overstrung, and I lit a 
cigar to steady them. At that moment, just as the train was 
moving off, the door of my compartment was flung open, 
and there were MacCoy and my brother on the platform. 

" They were both disguised, and with good reason, for 
they knew that the London police were after them. Mac- 
Coy had a great astrakhan collar drawn up, so that only 
his eyes and nose were showing. My brother was dressed 



THE MAN WITH THE WATCHES 69 

like a woman, with a black veil half down his face, but of 
course it did not deceive me for an instant, nor would it 
have done so even if I had not known that he had often used 
such a dress before. I started up, and as I did so MacCoy 
recognized me. He said something, the conductor slammed 
the door, and they were shown into the next compartment. 
I tried to stop the train so as to follow them, but the wheels 
were already moving, and it was too late. 

"When we stopped at Willesden, I instantly changed 
my carriage. It appears that I was not seen to do so, which 
is not surprising, as the station was crowded with people. 
MacCoy, of course, was expecting me, and he had spent 
the time between Euston and Willesden in saying all he 
could to harden my brother's heart and set him against me. 
That is what I fancy, for I had never found him so im- 
possible to soften or to move. I tried this way and I tried 
that; I pictured his future in an English jail; I described 
the sorrow of his mother when I came back with the news ; 
I said everything to touch his heart, but all to no purpose. 
He sat there with a fixed sneer upon his handsome face, 
while every now and then Sparrow MacCoy would throw 
in a taunt at me or some word of encouragement to hold my 
brother to his resolutions. 

** ' Why don't you run a Sunday-school? ' he would say 
to me, and then,' in the same breath : * He thinks you have 
no will of your own. He thinks you are just the baby 
brother and that he can lead you where he likes. He's only 
just finding out that you are a man as well as he.' 

** It was those words of his which set me talking bitterly. 
We had left Willesden, you understand, for aU this took 
some time. My temper got the better of me, and for the 



60 THE MAN WITH THE WATCHES 

first time in my life I let my brother see the rough side of 
me. Perhaps it would have been better had I done so 
earlier and more often. 

" 'A man ! ' said I. * Well, I'm glad to have your friend's 
assurance of itj for no one would suspect it to see you like 
a boarding-school missy. I don't suppose in all this coun- 
try there is a more contemptible-looking creature than you 
are as you sit there with that Dolly pinafore upon you.' 
He colored up at that, for he was a vain man, and he winced 
from ridicule. 

" * It's only a dust-cloak,' said he, and he slipped it off. 
' One has to throw the coppers off one's scent, and I had no 
other way to do it.' He took his toque off with the veil at- 
tached, and he put both it and the cloak into his brown bag. 
' Anyway, I don't need to wear it until the conductor comes 
round,' said he. 

" * Nor then, either,' said I, and taking the bag I slung 
it with all my force out of the window. ' Now,' said I, 
* you'll never make a Mary Jane of yourself while I can 
help it. If nothing but that disguise stands between you 
and a jail, then to jail you shall go.' 

'* That was the way to manage him. I felt my advan- 
tage at once. His supple nature was one which yielded to 
roughness far more readily than to entreaty. He flushed 
with shame, and' his eyes filled with tears. But MacCoy saw 
my advantage also, and was determined that I should not 
pursue it. 

" * He's my pard, and you shall not bully him,' he cried. 

" * He's my brother, and you shall not ruin him,' said I. 
' I believe a spell of prison is the very best way of keeping 



THE MAN WITH THE WATCHES 61 

you apart, and you shall have it, or it will be no fault of 
mine.' 

" ' Oh, you would squeal, would you? ' he cried, and in 
an instant he whipped out his revolver. I sprang for his 
hand, but saw that I was too late, and jumped aside. At 
the same instant he fired, and the bullet which would have 
struck me passed through the heart of my unfortunate 
brother. 

" He dropped without a groan upon the floor of the 
compartment, and MacCoy and I, equally horrified, knelt 
at each side of him, trying to bring back some signs of life. 
MacCoy still held the loaded revolver in his hand, but his 
anger against me and my resentment toward him had both 
for the moment been swallowed up in this sudden tragedy. 
It was he who first realized the situation. The train was 
for some reason going very slowly at the moment and he 
saw his opportunity for escape. In an instant he had the 
door open, but I was as quick as he, and jumping upon 
him the two of us fell off the foot-board and rolled in each 
other's arms down a steep embankment. At the bottom I 
struck my head against a stone, and I remembered nothing 
more. When I came to myself I was lying among some low 
bushes, not far from the railroad track, and somebody was 
bathing my head with a wet handkerchief. It was Sparrow 
MacCoy. 

" ' I guess I couldn't leave you,' said he. ' I didn't want 
to have the blood of two of you on my hands in one day. 
You loved your brother, I've no doubt ; but you didn't love 
him a cent more than I loved him, though you'll say that I 
took a queer way to show it. Anyhow, it seems a mighty 



62 THE MAN WITH THE WATCHES 

empty world now that he is gone, and I don't care a conti- 
nental whether you give me over to the hangman or not.' 

^^ He had turned his ankle in the fall, and there we sat, 
he with his useless foot, and I with my throbbing head, and 
we talked and talked until gradually my bitterness began to 
soften and to turn into something like sympathy. What 
was the use of revenging his death upon a man who was as 
much stricken by that death as I was? And then, as my 
wits gradually returned, I began to realize also that I could 
do nothing against MacCoy which would not recoil upon 
my mother and myself. How could we convict him without 
a full account of my brother's career being made public — 
the very thing which of all others we wished to avoid? It 
was really as much our interest as his to cover the matter 
up, and from being an avenger of crime I found myself 
changed to a conspirator against Justice. The place in 
which we found ourselves was one of those pheasant pre- 
serves which are so common in the Old Country, and as we 
groped our way through it I found myself consulting the 
slayer of my brother as to how far it would be possible to 
hush it up. 

"I soon realized from what he said that unless there were 
some papers of which we knew nothing in my brother's 
pockets, there was really no possible means by which the 
police could identify him or learn how he had got there. 
His ticket was in MacCoy's pocket, and so was the ticket 
for some baggage which they had left at the dep6t. Like 
most Americans, he had found it cheaper and easier to buy 
an outfit in London than to bring one from New York, so 
that all his linen and clothes were new and unmarked. The 
bag, containing the dust cloak, which I had thrown out of 



THE MAN WITH THE WATCHES 63 

the window, may have fallen among some bramble patch 
where it is still concealed, or may have been carried off by 
some tramp, or may have come into the possession of the 
police, who kept the incident to themselves. Anyhow, I 
have seen nothing about it in the London papers. As to the 
watches, they were a selection from those which had been in- 
trusted to him for business purposes. It may have been for 
the same business purposes that he was taking them to Man- 
chester, but — well, it's too late to enter into that. 

" I don't blame the police for being at fault. I don't see 
how it could have been otherwise. There was just one little 
clew that they might have followed up but it was a small 
one. I mean that small circular mirror which was found in 
my brother's pocket. It isn't a very common thing for a 
young man to carry about with him, is it? But a gambler 
might have told you what such a mirror may mean to a 
card-sharper. If you sit back a little from the table, and 
lay the mirror, face upward, upon your lap, you can see, 
as you deal, every card that you give to your adversary. 
It is not hard to say whether you see a man, or raise him 
when you know his cards as well as your own. It was as 
much a part of a sharper's outfit as the elastic clip upon 
Sparrow MacCoy's arm. Taking that, in connection with 
the recent frauds at the hotels, the police might have got 
hold of one end of the, string. 

" I don't think there is much more for me to explain. 
We got to a village called Amersham that night in the 
character of two gentlemen upon a walking tour, and after- 
ward we made our way quietly to London, whence Mac- 
Coy went on to Cairo and I returned to New York. My 
mother died six months afterward, and I am glad to say 



64 THE MAN WITH THE WATCHES 

that to the day of her death she never knew what happened. 
She was always under the delusion that Edward was earn- 
ing an honest living in London, and I never had the heart 
to tell her the truth. He never wrote ; but, then, he never 
did write at any time, so that made no difference. His 
name was the last upon her lips. 

*' There's just one other thing that I have to ask you, 
sir, and I should take it as a kind return for all this ex- 
planation, if you could do it for me. You remember that 
Testament that was picked up. I always carried it in my 
inside pocket, and it must have come out in my fall. I value 
it very highly, for it was the family book with my birth 
and my brother's marked by my father in the beginning of 
it. I wish you would apply at the proper place and have it 
sent to me. It can be of no possible value to anyone else. 
If you address it to X, Bassano's Library, Broadway, JJew 
Yorkf it is sure to come to hand." 



THE POT OF CAVIARE 

IT was the fourth day of the siege. Ammunition and 
provisions were both nearing an end. When the Boxer 
insurrection had suddenly flamed up, and roared, hke 
a fire in dry grass, across Northern China, the few scat- 
tered Europeans in the outlying provinces had huddled 
together at the nearest defensible post and had held on for 
dear life until rescue came — or until it did not. In the 
latter case, the less said about their fate the better. In the 
former, they came back into the world of men with that 
upon their faces which told that they had looked very 
closely, upon such an end as would ever haunt their dreams. 
Ichau was .only fifty miles from the coast, and there was 
a European squadron in the Gulf of Liantong. Therefore 
the absurd little garrison, consisting of native Christians 
and railway men, with a German ofiicer to command them 
and five civilian Europeans to support him, held on bravely 
with the conviction that help must sdon come sweeping 
down to them from the low hills to eastward. The sea was 
visible from those hills, and on the sea were their armed 
countrymen. Surely, then, they could not feel deserted. 
With brave hearts they manned the loopholes in the crumb- 
ling brick walls outlining the tiny European quarter, and 
they fired away briskly, if ineffectively, at the rapidly ad- 
vancing sangars of the Boxers. It was certain that in an- 
other day or so they would be at the end of their resources, 

65 



66 THE POT OF CAVIARE 

but then it was equally certain that in another day or so 
they must be relieved. It might be a little sooner or it 
might be a little later, but there was no one who ever ven- 
tured to hint that the relief would not arrive in time to 
pluck them out of the fire. Up to Tuesday night there was 
no word of discouragement. 

It was true that on the Wednesday their robust faith in 
what was going forward behind those eastern hills had 
weakened a little. The gray slopes lay bare and unrespon- 
sive while the deadly sangars pushed ever nearer, so near 
that the dreadful faces which shrieked imprecations at them 
from time to time over the top could be seen in every hideous 
feature. There was not so much of that now since young 
Ainslie, of the Diplomatic service, with his neat little .303 
sporting rifle, had settled down in the squat church tower, 
and had devoted his days to abating the nuisance. But a 
silent sangar is an even more impressive thing than a 
clamorous one, and steadily, irresistibly, inevitably, the lines 
of brick and rubble drew closer. Soon they would be so near 
that one rush would assuredly carry the frantic swordsmen 
over the frail entrenchment. It all seemed very black upon 
Wednesday evening. Colonel Dresler, the German ex-in- 
fantry soldier, went about with an imperturbable face, but a 
heart of lead. Ralston, of the railway, was up half the 
night writing farewell letters. Professor Mercer, the old 
entomologist, was even more silent and grimly thoughtful 
than ever. Ainslie had lost some of his flippancy. On the 
whole, the ladies — Miss Sinclair, the nurse of the Scotch 
Mission, Mrs. Patterson, and her pretty daughtear. Jessie, 
were the most composed of the party. Father Pierre of the 
French Mission, was also unaffected, as was natural to one 



THE POT OF CAVIARE 67 

who regarded martyrdom as a glorious crown. The Boxers 
yelling for his blood beyond the walls disturbed him less 
than his forced association with the sturdy Scotch Presby- 
terian presence of Mr. Patterson, with whom for ten years 
he had wrangled over the souls of the natives. They passed 
each other now in the corridors as dog passes cat, and each 
kept a watchful eye upon the other lest even in the trenches 
he might filch some sheep from the rival fold, whispering 
heresy in his ear. 

But the Wednesday night passed without a crisis, and on 
the Thursday all was bright once more. It was Ainslie up 
in the clock tower who had first heard the distant thud of a 
gun. Then Dresler heard it and within half an hour it was 
audible to all — that strong iron voice, calling to them from 
afar and bidding them to be of good cheer, since help was 
coming. It was clear that the landing party from the 
squadron was well on its way. It would not arrive an hour 
too soon. The cartridges were nearly finished. Their half- 
rations of food would soon dwindle to an even more pitiful 
supply. But what need to worry about that now that re- 
lief was assured? There would be no attack that day, as 
most of the Boxers could be seen streaming off in the direc- 
tion of the distant firing, and the long lines of sangars 
were silent and deserted. They were all able, therefore, to 
assemble at the lunch-table, a merry, talkative party, full 
of that joy of living which sparkles most brightly under 
the imminent shadow of death. 

** The pot of caviare ! " cried Ainslie. " Come, Pro- 
fessor, out with the pot of caviare ! " 

*' Potz-tausend ! yes," grunted old Dresler. " It is cer- 
tainly time that we had that famous pot." 



68 THE POT OF CAVIARE 

The ladies joined in and from all parts of the long, ill- 
furnished table there came the demand for caviare. 

It was a strange time to ask for such a delicacy, but the 
reason is soon told. Professor Mercer, the old Calif ornian 
entomologist, had received a jar of caviare in a hamper of 
goods from San Francisco, arriving a day or two before 
the outbreak. In the general pooling and distribution of 
provisions this one dainty and three bottles of Lachryma 
Christi from the same hamper had been excepted and set 
aside. By common consent they were to be reserved for the 
final joyous meal when the end of their peril should be in 
sight. Even as they sat the thud-thud of the relieving guns 
came to their ears — more luxurious music to their lunch 
than the most sybaritic restaurant of London could have 
supplied. Before evening the relief would certainly be there. 
Why, then, should their stale bread not be glorified by the 
treasured caviare? 

But the Professor shook his gnarled old head and smiled 
his inscrutable smile. 

" Better wait," said he. 

" Wait! Why wait? " cried the company. 

" They have still far to come," he answered. 

" They will be here for supper at the latest," said Rals- 
ton, of the railway — a keen, birdlike man, with bright eyes 
and long, projecting nose. " They cannot be more than 
ten miles from us now. If they only did two miles an hour 
it would make them due at seven." 

" There is a battle on the way," remarked the Colonel. 
*' You will grant two hours or three hours for the battle." 

** Not half an hour," cried Ainslie. " They will walk 
through them as if they were not there. What can these 



THE POT OF CAVIARE 69 

rascals with their matchlocks and swords do against modem 
weapons? *' 

" It depends on who leads the column of relief," said 
Dresler. " If they are fortunate enough to have a German 
oflScer — " 

" An Englishman for my money ! " cried Ralston. 

" The French commodore is said to be an excellent strat- 
egist," remarked Father Pierre. 

" I don't see that it matters a toss," cried the exuberant 
Ainslie. " Mr. Mauser and Mr. Maxim are the two men 
who will see us through, and with them on our side no 
leader can go wrong. I tell you they will just brush them 
aside and walk through them. So now. Professor, come on 
with that pot of caviare ! " 

But the old scientist was unconvinced. 

" We shall reserve it for supper," said he. 

" After all," said Mr. Patterson, in his slow, precise 
Scottish intonation, " it will be a courtesy to our guests — 
the officers of the relief — if we have some palatable food 
to lay before them. I'm in agreement with the Professor 
that we reserve the caviare for supper." 

The argument appealed to their sense of hospitaUty. 
There was something pleasantly chivalrous, too, in the idea 
of keeping their one little delicacy to give a savor to the 
meal of their preservers. There was no more talk of the 
caviare. 

" By the way. Professor," said Mr. Patterson, " I've 
only heard to-day that this is the second time that you 
have been besieged in this way. I'm sure we should all be 
very interested to hear some details of your previous ex- 
perience." 



.70 THE POT OF CAVIARE 

The old man's face set very grimly. 

" I was in Sung-tong, in South China, in 'eighty-nine,'* 
said he. 

" It's a very extraordinary coincidence that you should 
twice have been in such a perilous situation," said the 
missionary. " Tell us how you were relieved at Sung-tong." 

The shadow deepened upon the weary face. 

" We were not relieved," said he. 

"What! the place fell?" 

" Yes, it f eU." 

** And you came through alive? " 

" I am a doctor as well as an entomologist. They had 
many wounded ; they spared me." 

"And the rest?" 

**Assez! assez!" cried the little French priest, raising 
his hand in protest. He had been twenty years in China. 
The Professor had said nothing, but there was something, 
some lurking horror, in his dull, gray eyes which had 
turned the ladies pale. 

" I am sorry," said the missionary. " I can see that it 
is a painful subject. I should not have asked." 

" No," the Professor answered, slowly. " It is wiser not 
to ask. It is better not to speak about such things at all. 
But surely those guns are very much nearer? " 

There could be no doubt of it. After a silence the thud- 
thud had recommenced with a lively ripple of rifle-fire 
playing all round that deep bass master-note. It must be 
just at the farther side of the nearest hill. They pushed 
back their chairs and ran out to the ramparts. The silent- 
footed native servants came in and cleared the scanty re- 
mains from the table. But after they had left, the old 



THE POT OF CAVIARE 71 

Professor sat on there, his massive, gray-crowned head 
leaning upon his hands and the same pensive look of horror 
in his eyes. Some ghosts may be laid for years, but when 
they do rise it is not so easy to drive them back to their 
slumbers. The guns had ceased outside, but he had not ob- 
served it, lost as he was in the one supreme and terrible 
memory of his life. 

His thoughts were interrupted at last by the entrance 
of the Commandant. There was a complacent smile upon 
his broad German face, 

" The Kaiser will be pleased," said he, rubbing his hands. 
** Yes, certainly it should mean a decoration. * Defense 
of Ichau against the Boxers by Colonel Dresler, late Ma- 
jor of the 114th Hanoverian Infantry. Splendid resistance 
of small garrison against overwhelming odds.' It will cer- 
tainly appear in the Berlin papers." 

" Then you think we are saved? " said the old man, with 
neither emotion nor exultation in his voice. 

The Colonel smiled. 

" Why, Professor," said he, ** I have seen you more ex- 
cited on the morning when you brought back Lepidus 
Mercerensis in your collecting-box." 

*' The fly was safe in my collecting-box first," the en- 
tomologist answered. " I have seen so many strange turns 
of Fate in my long life that I do not grieve nor do I rejoice 
until I know that I have cause. But tell me the news." 

" Well," said the Colonel, lighting his long pipe, and 
stretching his gaitered legs in the bamboo chair, " I'll stake 
my military reputation that all is well. They are advanc- 
ing swiftly, the firing has died down to show that resistance 
is at an end, and within an hour we'll see them over the 



72 THE POT OF CAVIARE 

brow. Ainslie is to fire his gun three times from the church 
tower as a signal, and then we shall make a Uttle sally, on 
our own account." 

" And you are waiting for this signal? " 

"Yes, we are waiting for Ainslie's shots. I thought I 
would spend the time with you, for I had something to ask 
you." 

"What was it?" 

" Well, you remember your talk about the other siege — 
the siege of Sung-tong. It interests me very much from a 
professional point of view. Now that the ladies and civilians 
are gone you will have no objection to discussing it." 

" It is not a pleasant subject." . 

" No, I dare say not. Mein Gott ! it was indeed a trag- 
edy. But you have seen how I have conducted the defense 
here. Was it wise? Was it good? Was it worthy of the 
traditions of the German army? " 

" I think you could have done no more." 

" Thank you. But this other place, was it as ably de- 
fended? To me a comparison of this sort is very interest- 
ing. Could it have been saved? " 

" No ; everything possible was done — save only one 
thing." 

" Ah ! there was one omission. What was it ? " 

" No one — r above all, no woman -7- should have been 
allowed to fall alive into the hands of the Chinese." 

The Colonel held out his broad red hand and enfolded 
the long, white, nervous fingers of the Professor. 

" You are right — a thousand times right. But do not 
think that this has escaped my thoughts. For myself I 
would die fighting, so would Ralston, so would Ainslie. I 



THE POT X)F CAVIARE 78 

have talked to them, and it is settled. But the others, I 
have spoken with them, but what are you to do? There are 
the priest, and the missionary, and the women.'* 

" Would they wish to be taken alive? " 

" They would not promise to take steps to prevent it. 
They would not lay hands gn their own lives. Their con- 
sciences would not permit it. Of course, it is all over now, 
and we need not speak of such dreadful things. But what 
would you have done in my place? " 

" Kill them." 

** Mein Gott ! You would murder them? " 

" In mercy I would kill them. Man, I have been through 
it. I have seen the death of the hot eggs ; I have seen the 
death of the boiling kettle ; I have seen the women — my 
God! I wonder that I have ever slept sound again." His 
usually impassive face was working and quivering with the 
agony of the remembrance. " I was strapped to a stake 
with thorns in my eyeKds to keep them open, and my grief 
at their torture was a less thing than my self-reproach when 
I thought that I could with one tube of tasteless tablets 
have snatched them at the last instant from the hands of 
their tormentors. Murder! I am ready to stand at the 
Divine bar and answer for a thousand murders such as 
that! Sin! Why, it is such an act as might well cleanse 
the stain of real sin from the soul. But if, knowing what 
I do, I should have failed this second time to do it, then by 
Heaven ! there is no hell deep enough or hot enough to re- 
ceive my guilty craven spirit." 

The Colonel rose, and again his hand clasped that of the 
Professor. 

" You speak sense," said he. " You are a brave, strong 



IT* THE POT OF CAVIARE 

man, who know your own mind. Yes, by the Lord! you 
would have been my great help had things gone the other 
way. I have often thought and wondered in the dark, early 
hours of the morning, but I did not know how to do it. But 
we should have heard Ainslie's shots before now, I will go 
and see.'* 

Again the old scientist sat alone with his thoughts. 
Finally, as neither the guns of the relieving force nor yet 
the signal of their approach sounded upon his ears, he rose, 
and was about to go himself upon the ramparts to make in- 
quiry when the door flew open, and Colonel Dresler stag- 
gered into the room. His face was of a ghastly yellow- 
white, and his chest heaved like that of a man exhausted 
with running. There was brandy on the side-table, and he 
gulped down a glassful. Then he dropped heavily into a 
chair. 

" Well,'* said the Professor, coldly, ** they are not 
coming? " 

" No, they cannot come." 

There was silence for a minute or more, the two men 
staring blankly at each other. 

"Do they all know?'' 

" No one knows but me." 

"How did you learn?" 

" I was at the wall near the postern gate — the little 
wooden gate that opens on the rose garden. I saw some- 
thing crawling among the bushes. There was a knocking 
at the door. I opened it. It was a Christian Tartar, badly, 
cut about with swords. He had come from the battle. Com- 
modore Wyndham, the Englishman, had sent him. The 
relieving force had been checked. They had shot away 



THE POT OF CAVIARE 75 

most of their ammunition. They had entrenched them- 
selves and sent back to the ships for more. Three days must 
pass before they could come. That was all. Mein Gott ! it 
was enough.'' 

The Professor bent his shaggy gray brows. 

** Where is the man? '* he asked. 

" He is dead. He died of loss of blood. His body lies at 
the postern gate.'* 

'* And no one saw him ? " 

" Not to speak to.'* 

" Oh ! they did see him, then ? '* 

** Ainslie must have seen him from the churcK tower. He 
must know that I have had tidings. He will want to know 
what they are. If I tell him they must all know." 

" How long can we hold out? " 

*' An hour or two at the most." 

" Is that absolutely certain? " 

** I pledge my credit as a soldier upon it." 

"Then we must fall?" 

** Yes, we must fall." 

** There is no hope for us? " 

« None." 

The door flew open and young Ainslie rushed in. Be- 
hind him crowded Ralston, Patterson, and a crowd of white 
men and of native Christians. 

** You've had news, Colonel? " 

Professor Mercer pushed to the front. 

** Colonel Dresler has just been telling me. It is all right. 
They have halted, but will be here in the early morning. 
There is no longer any danger." 



76 THE POT OF CAVIARE 

A cheer broke from the group in the doorway. Everyone 
was laughing and shaking hands. 

" But suppose they rush us before to-morrow morning? " 
cried Ralston, in a petulant voice, " What infernal fools 
these fellows are not to push on ! Lazy devils, they should 
be court-martialed, every man of them." 

** It's all safe," said Ainslie. ** These fellpws have had 
a bad knock. We can see their wounded being carried by 
the hundred over the hill. They must have lost heavily. 
They won't attack before morning." 

" No, no," said the Colonel ; " it is certain that they 
won't attack before morning. None the less, get back to 
your posts. We must give no point away." He left the 
room with the rest, but as he did so he looked back, and his 
eyes for an instant met those of the old Professor. " I 
leave it in your hands," was the message which he flashed. 
A stem set smile was his answer. 

The afternoon wore way without the Boxers making 
their last attack. To Colonel Dresler it was clear that the 
unwonted stillness meant only that they were reassembling 
their forces from their fight with the relief column, and 
were gathering themselves for the inevitable and final rush. 
To all the others it appeared that the siege was indeed over, 
and that the assailants had been crippled by the losses which 
they had already sustained. It was a joyous and noisy 
party, therefore, which met at the supper-table, when the 
three bottles of Lachryma Christi were uncorked and the 
famous port of caviare was finally opened. It was a large 
jar, and though each had a tablespoonful of the delicacy, it 
was by no means exhausted. Ralston, who was an epicure, 



THE POT OF CAVIARE 77 

had a double allowance. He pecked away at it like a hungry 
bird. Ainslie, too, had a second helping. The Professor 
took a large spoonful himself, and Colonel Dresler, watch- 
ing him narrowly, did the same. The ladies ate freely, save 
only pretty Miss Patterson, who disliked the salty, pungent 
taste. In spite of the hospitable entreaties of the Pro- 
fessor, her portion lay hardly touched at the side of her 
plate. 

" You don't like my little delicacy. It is a disappoint- 
ment to me when I had kept it for your pleasure,'* said the 
old man. " I beg that you will eat the caviare." 

" I have never tasted it before. No doubt I should like 
it in time." \ 

" Well, you must make a beginning. Why not start to 
educate your taste now? Do, please! " 

Pretty Jessie Patterson's bright face shone with her 
sunny, boyish smile. 

" Why, how earnest you are ! " she laughed. *' I had no 
idea you were so polite, Professor Mercer. Even if I do 
not eat it I am just as grateful." 

" You are foolish not to eat it," said the Professor, with 
such intensity that the smile died from her face and her 
eyes reflected the earnestness of his own. *' I tell you it is 
foolish not to eat caviare to-night." 

*' But why — why? " she asked. 

** Because you have it on your plate. Because it is sinful 
to waste it." 

"There! there!" said stout Mrs. Patterson^ leaning 
across. " Don't trouble her any more. I can see that she 
does not like it. But it shall not be wasted." She passed the 
blade of her knife under it, and scraped it from Jessie's 



78 THE POT OF CAVIARE 

plate on to her own. " Now it won't be wasted. Your mind 
will be at ease, Professor." 

But it did not seem at ease. On the contrary, his face was 
agitated like that of a man who encounters an unexpected 
and formidable obstacle. He was lost in thought. 

The conversation buzzed cheerily. Everyone was full of 
his future plans. 

** No, no, there is no holiday for me," said Father Pierre. 
" We priests don't get holidays. Now that the mission 
and school are formed I am to leave it to Father Amiel, 
and to push westward to found another." 

"You are leaving?" said Mr. Patterson. **You don't 
mean that you are going away from Ichau? " 

Father Pierre shook his venerable head in waggish re- 
proof. " You must not look so pleased, Mr. Patterson." 

** Well, well, our views are very different," said the Pres- 
byterian, "but there is no personal feeling toward you, 
Father Pierre. At the same time, how any reasonable edu- 
cated man at this time of the world's history can teach these 
poor benighted heathen that — " 

A general buzz of remonstrance silenced the theology. 

"What will you do yourself, Mr. Patterson?" asked 
someone. 

" Well, I'll take three months In Edinburgh to attend 
the annual meeting. You'll be glad to do some shopping in 
Princes Street, I'm thinking, Mary. And you, Jessie, you'll 
see some folk your own age. Then we can come back in the 
fall, when your, nerves have had a rest." 

** Indeed, we shall all need it," said Miss Sinclair, the 
mission nurse. ^' You know, this long strain takes me in the 



THE POT OF CAVIARE 79 

strangest way. At the present moment, I can hear such a 
buzzing in my ears." 

" Well, that's funny, for it's just the same with me," 
cried Ainslie. " An absurd up-and-down buzzing, as if a 
drunken bluebottle were trying experiments on his register. 
As you say, it must be due to nervous strain. For my part 
I am going back to Peking, and I hope I may get some 
promotion over this affair. I can get good polo here, and 
that's as fine a change of thought as I know. How about 
you, Ralston? " 

" Oh, I don't know. I've hardly had time to think. I 
want to have a real good sunny, bright holiday and forget 
it all. It was funny to see all the letters in my room. It 
looked so black on Wednesday night that I had settled up 
my affairs and written to all my friends. I don't quite know 
how they were to be delivered, but I trusted to luck. I 
think I will keep those papers as a souvenir. They will al- 
ways remind me of how close a shave we have had." 

*' Yes, I would keep them," said Dresler. 

His voice was so deep and solemn that every eye was 
turned upon him. 

** What is it. Colonel? You seem in the blues to-niglit." 
It was Ainslie who spoke. 

** No, no ; I am very contented." 

** Well, so you should be when you see success in sight. 
I am sure we are all indebted to you for your science and 
skill. I don't think we could have held the place without 
you. Ladies and gentlemen, I ask you to drink the health 
of Colonel Dresler, of the Imperial German army. Er soil 
leben — hoch ! " 



80 THE POT OF CAVIARE 

They all stood up and raised their glasses to the soldier, 
with smiles and bows. 

His pale face flushed with professional pride. 

" I have always kept my books with me. I have forgotten 
nothing," said he. " I do not think that more could be 
done. If things had gone wrong with us and the place had 
fallen you would, I am sure, have freed me from any blame 
or responsibility." He looked wistfully round him. 

** I'm voicing the sentiments of this company. Colonel 
Dresler," said the Scotch minister, "when I say — but, 
Lord save us! what's amiss with Mr. Ralston? " 

He had dropped his face upon his folded arms and was 
placidly sleeping. 

" Don't mind him," said the Professor, hurriedly. " We 
are all in the stage of reaction now. I have no doubt that 
we are aU liable to collapse. It is only to-night that we shall 
feel what we have gone through." 

" I'm sure I can fully sympathize with him," said Mrs. 
Patterson. " I don't know when I have been more sleepy. 
I can hardly hold my own head up." She cuddled back in 
her chair and shut her eyes, 

" Well, I've never known Mary do that before," cried 
her husband, laughing heartily. " Gone to sleep over her 
supper! What ever will she think when we tell her of it 
afterward? But the air does seem hot and heavy. I can 
certainly excuse any one who falls asleep to-night. I think 
that I shall turn in early myself." 

Ainslie was in a talkative, excited mood. He was on his 
feet once more with his glass in his hand. 

" I think that we ought to have one drink all together, 
and then sing ' Auld Lang Syne,' " said he, smiling round 



THE POT OF CAVIARE 81 

at the company. ** For a week we have all pulled in the 
same boat, and weVe got to know each other as people 
never do in the quiet days of peace. WeVe learned to ap- 
preciate each other and we've learned to appreciate each 
other's nations. There's the Colonel here stands for Ger- 
many. And Father Pierre is for France. Then there's the 
Professor for America, Ralston and I are Britishers. 
Then there's the ladies, God bless 'em! They have been 
angels of mercy and compassion all through the siege. I 
think we should drink the health of the ladies. Wonderful 
thing — the quiet courage, the patience, the — what shall 
I say? — the fortitude, the — the — by George, look at 
the Colonel! He's gone to sleep, too — most infernal 
sleepy weather." His glass crashed down upon the table, 
and he sank back, mumbling and muttering, into his seat. 
Miss Sinclair, the pale mission nurse, had dropped off also. 
She lay like a broken lily across the arm of her chair. Mr. 
Patterson looked round him and sprang to his feet. He 
passed his hand over his flushed forehead. 

*' This isn't natural, Jessie," he cried. " Why are they 
all asleep? There's Father Pierre — he's off too. Jessie, 
Jessie, your mother is cold. Is it sleep? Is it death? Open 
the windows I Help ! help ! help ! " He staggered to his 
feet and rushed to the windows, but midway his head spun 
round, his knees sank under him, and he pitched forward 
upon his face. 

yhe young girl h ad also sprung to her feet. She looked 
round her with horror-stricken eyes at her prostrate father 
and the silent ring of figures. 

"Professor Mercer! What is it? What is it?" she 
cried. " Oh, my God, they are dying ! They are dead ! " 



88 THE POT OF CAVIARE 

The old man had raised himself by a supreme effort of 
his willy though the darkness was already gathering thickly 
round him. 

" My dear young lady,'* he said, stuttering and stum- 
bling over the words, " we would have spared you this. It 
would have been painless to mind and body. It was cyanide. 
I had it in the caviare. But you would not have it." 

" Great Heaven ! " She shrank away from him with di- 
lated eyes. " Oh, you monster ! You monster ! You have 
poisoned them ! " 

" No, no ! I saved them. You don't know the Chinese. 
They are horrible. In another hour we should all have been 
in their hands. Take it now, child." Even as he spoke, a 
burst of firing broke out under the very windows of the 
room. ** Hark ! There they are ! Quick, dear, quick, you 
may cheat them yet ! " But his words fell upon deaf ears, 
for the girl had sunk back senseless in her chair. The old 
man stood listening for an instant to the firing outside. 
But what was that? Merciful Father, what was that? Was 
he going mad? Was it the effect of the drug? Surely it 
was a European cheer? Yes, there were sharp order? in 
English. There was the shouting of sailors. He could no 
longer doubt it. By some miracle the relief had come after 
all. He threw his long arms upward in his despair. " What 
have I done? Oh, good Lord, what have I done? " he cried. 

It was Commodore Wyndham himself who was the first, 
after his desperate and successful night attack, to burst 
into that terrible supper-room. Round the table sat the 
white and silent company. Only in the young girl who 
moaned and faintly stirred was any sign of life to be seen. 



THE POT OF CAVIARE 83 

And yet there was one in the circle who had the energy for 
a last supreme duty. The Commodore, standing stupefied 
at the door, saw a gray head slowly lifted from the table,, 
and the tall form of the Professor staggered for an instant 
to its feet, 

** Take care of the caviare ! For God's sake, don't touch 
the caviare ! " he croaked. 

Then he sank back once more and the circle of death was 
complete. 



THE JAPANNED BOX 

IT was a curious thing, said the private tutor; one of 
those grotesque and whimsical incidents which occur 
to one as one goes through life. I lost the best situa- 
tion which I am ever likely to have through it. But I am 
glad that I went to Thorpe Place, for I gained — well, 
as I tell you the story you will learn what I gained. 

I don't know whether you are familiar with that part of 
the Midlands which is drained by the Avon. It is the most 
English part of England. Shakespeare, the flower of the 
whole race, was bom right in the middle of it. It is a land 
of rolling pastures, rising in higher folds to the westward, 
until they swell into the Malvern Hills. There are no towns, 
but numerous villages, each with its gray Norman church. 
You have left the brick of the southern and eastern counties 
behind you, and everything is stone — stone for the walls, 
and lichened slabs of stone for the roofs. It is all grim and 
solid and massive, as befits the heart of a great nation. 

It was in the middle of this country, not very far from 
Evesham, that Sir John BoUamore lived in the old ancestral 
home of Thorpe Place, and thither it was tKat I came to 
teach his two little sons. Sir John was a widower — his 
wife had died three years before — and he had been left 
with these two lads aged eight and ten, and one de ar little 
girl of seven. Miss Witherton, who is now my wife*, was 
governess to this little girl. I was tutor to the two boys, 

84 



THE JAPANNED BOX 85 

Could there be a more obvious prelude to an engagement? 
She governs me now, and I tutor two Uttle boys of our own. 
But, there — I have already revealed what it was which I 
gained in Thorpe Place ! 

It was a very, very old house, incredibly old — pre- 
Norman, some of it — and the BoUamores claimed to have 
lived in that situation since long before the Conquest. It 
struck a chill to my he€u:t when first I came there, those 
enormously thick gray walls, the rude crumbUng stones, the 
smell as from a sick animal which exhaled from the rotting 
plaster of the aged building. But the modem wing was 
bright and the garden was well kept. No house could be 
dismal which had a pretty girl inside it and such a show of 
roses in front. 

Apart from a very complete staff of servants there were 
only four of us in the household. These were Miss Wither- 
ton, who was at that time f our-and^twenty and as pretty — 
well, as pretty as Mrs. Colmore is now — myself, Frank 
Colmore, aged thirty, Mrs. Stevens, the housekeeper, a dry, 
silent woman, and Mr. Richards, a tall, military-looking 
man, who acted as steward to the Bollamore estates. We 
four always had our meab together, but Sir John had his 
usually alone in the Ubrary. Sometimes he joined us at 
dinner, but on the whole we were just as glad when he did 
not. 

For he was a very formidable person. Imagine a man six 
foot three inches in height, majestically built, with a high- 
nosed, aristocratic face, brindled hair, shaggy eyebrows, a 
small, pointed Mephistophelian beard, and lines upon his 
brow and round his eyes as deep as if they had been carved 
with a penknife. He had gray eyes, weary, hopeless-look- 



86 THE JAPANNED BOX 

ing eyes, proud and yet pathetic, eyes which claimed your 
pity and yet dared you to show it. His back was rounded 
with study, but otherwise he was as fine a looking man of 
his age — five-and-fifty perhaps — as any woman would 
wish to look upon. 

But his presence was not a cheerful one. He was always 
courteous, always refined, but singularly silent and retiring. 
I have never lived so long with any man and known so little 
of him. If he were indoors he spent his time either in his 
own small study in the Eastern Tower, or in the library in 
the modem wing. So regular was his routine that one could 
always say at any hour exactly where he would be. Twice 
in the day he would visit his study, once after breakfast, 
and once about ten at night. You might set your watch 
by the slam of the heavy door. For the rest of the day he 
would be in his library — save that for an hour or two in 
the afternoon he would take a walk or a ride, which was 
solitary like the rest of his existence. He loved his children, 
and was keenly interested in the progress of their studies, 
but they were a little awed by the silent, shaggy-browed 
figure, and they avoided him as much as they could. In- 
deed, we all did that. 

It was some time before I came to know anything about 
the circumstances of Sir John Bollamore's life, for Mrs. 
Stevens, the housekeeper, and Mr. Richards, the land- 
steward, were too loyal to talk easily of their employer's 
afi^airs. As to the governess, she knew no more than I did, 
and our common interest was one of the causes which drew 
us together. At last, however, an incident occurred which 
led to a closer acquaintance with Mr. Richards and a fuller 
knowledge of the life of the man whom I served. ' 



THE JAPANNED BOX 87 

The immediate cause of this was no less than the falling 
of Master Percy, the youngest of my pupils, into the mill- 
race, with imminent danger both to his life and to mine, 
since I had to risk myself in order to save him. Dripping 
and exhausted — for I was far more spent than the child 
— I was making for my room when Sir John, who had 
heard the hubbub, opened the door of his little study and 
asked me what was the matter. I told him of the accident, 
but assured him that his child was in no danger, while he 
listened with a rugged, immobile face, which expressed in 
its intense eyes and tightened lips all the emotion which he 
tried to conceal. 

" One moment ! Step in here ! Let me have the details ! '* 
said he, turning back through the open door. 

And so I found myself within that little sanctiun, in- 
side which, as I afterward learned, no other foot had for 
three years been set save that of the old servant who cleaned 
it out. It was a round room, conforming to the shape of 
the tower in which it was situated, with a low ceiling, a 
single narrow, ivy-wreathed window, and the simplest of 
furniture. An old carpet, a single chair, a deal table, and a 
small shelf of books made up the whole contents. On the 
table stood a full-length photograph of a woman — I 
took no particular notice of the features, but I remember 
that a certain gracious gentleness was the prevailing im- 
pression. Beside it were a large black japanned box and 
one or two bundles of letters or papers fastened together 
with elastic bands. 

Our interview was a short one, for Sir John BoHamore 
perceived that I was soaked, and that I should change with- 
out delay. The incident led, however, to an instructive talk 



88 THE JAPANNED BOX 

with Richards^ the agent, who had never penetrated into the 
chamber which chance had opened to me. That very after- 
noon he came to me, all curiosity, and walked up and down 
the garden path with me, while my two charges played 
tennis upon the lawn beside us. 

** You hardly realize the exception which has been made 
in your favor," said he. " That room has been kept such 
a mystery, and Sir John's visits to it have been so regular 
and consistent, that an almost superstitious feeling has 
arisen about it in the household. I assure you that if I 
were to repeat to you the tales which are flying about, tales 
of mysterious visitors there, and of voices overheard by the 
servants, you might suspect that Sir John had relapsed into 
his old ways." 

" Why do you say relapsed? " I asked. 

He looked at me in surprise • 

** Is it possible," said he, " that Sir John Bollamore's 
previous history is unknown to you? " 

" Absolutely"!" 

"You astound me. I thought that every man in Eng- 
land knew something of his antecedents. I should not men- 
tion the matter if it were not that you are now one of our- 
selves, and that the facts might come to your ears in some 
harsher form if I were silent upon them. I always took it 
for granted that you knew that you were in the service of 
' Devil ' BoUamore." 

" But why ' Devil » ? " I asked. 

"Ah, you are young and the world moves fast, but 
twenty years ago the name of * Devil ' BoUamore was one 
of the best known in London. He was the leader of the 



THE JAPANNED BOX 89 

fastest set, bruiser, driver, gambler, drunkard — a survival 
of the old type, and as bad as the worst of them." 

I stared at him in amazement. 

" What ! " I cried, " that quiet, studious, sad-faced 
man? '' 

** The greatest rip and debauchee in England ! All be- 
tween ourselves, Colmore. But you understand now what I 
mean when I say that a woman's voice in his room might 
even now give rise to suspicions." 

" But what can have changed him so? " 

" Little Be ryl Clare, when she took the risk of becoming 
his wife, 'i'hat was the turning point. He had got so far 
that his own fast set had thrown him over. There is a world 
of difference, you know, between a man who drinks and a 
drunkard. They all drink, but they taboo a drunkard. He 
had become a slave to it — hopeless and helpless. Then 
she stepped in, saw the possibilities of a fine man in the 
wreck, took her chance in marrying him, though she might 
have had the pick of a dozen, and, by devoting her life to 
it, brought him back to manhood and decency. You have 
observed that no liquor is ever kept in the house. There 
never has been any since her foot crossed its threshold. A 
drop of it would be like blood to a tiger even now." 

" Then her influence still holds him? " 

" That is the wonder of it. When she died three years 
ago, we all expected and feared that he would fall back 
into his old ways. She feared it herself, and the thought 
gave a terror to death, for she was like a guardian angel 
to that man, and lived only for the one purpose. By the 
way, did you see a black japanned box in his room? " 



90 THE JAPANNED BOX 

" Yes." 

** I fancy it contains her letters. If ever he has occa- 
sion to be away, if only for a single night, he invariably 
takes his black japanned box with him. Well, well, Col- 
more, perhaps I have told you rather more than I should, 
but I shall expect you to reciprocate if anything of interest 
should come to your knowledge." I could see that the 
worthy man was consumed with curiosity and just a little 
piqued that I, the newcomer, should have been the first to 
penetrate into the untrodden chamber. But the fact raised 
me in his esteem, and from that time onward I found myself 
upon more confidential terms with him. 

And now the silent and majestic figure of my employer 
became an object of greater interest to me, I began to un- 
derstand that strangely human look in his eyes, those deep 
lines upon his careworn face. He was a man who was fight- 
ing a ceaseless battle, holding at arm's length, from morn- 
ing till night, a horrible adversary, who was for ever try- 
ing to close with him — an adversary which would destroy 
him body and soul could it but fix its claws once more upon 
him. As I watched the grim, round-backed figure pacing 
the corridor or walking in the garden, this imminent dan- 
ger seemed to take bodily shape, and I could almost fancy 
that I saw this most loathsome and dangerous of all the 
fiends crouching closely in his very shadow, like a half- 
cowed beast which slinks beside its keeper, ready at any un- 
guarded moment to spring at his throat. And the dead 
woman, the woman who had spent her life in warding off 
this danger, took shape also to my imagination, and I saw 
her as a shadowy but beautiful presence which intervened 



THE JAPANNED BOX 91 

for ever with arms uplifted to screen the man whom she 
loved. 

In some subtle way he divined the sympathy which I 
had for him, and he showed in his own silent fashion that 
he appreciated it. He even invited me once to share his 
afternoon walk, and although no word passed between us 
on this occasion, it was a mark of confidence which he had 
never shown to anyone before. He asked me also to in- 
dex his library (it was one of the best private libraries in 
England), and I spent many hours in the evening in his 
presence, if not in his society, he reading at his desk and 
I sitting in a recess by the window reducing to order the 
chaos which existed among his books. In spite of these 
close relations I was never again asked to enter the cham- 
ber in the turret. 

And then came my revulsion of feeling. A single inci- 
dent changed all my sympathy to loathing, and made me 
realize that my employer still remained all that he had ever 
been, with the additional vice of hypocrisy. What hap- 
pened was as follows. 

One evening Miss Witherton had gone down to Broad- 
way, the neighboring village, to sing at a concert for some 
charity, and I, according to my promise, had walked over 
to escort her back. The drive sweeps round under the east- 
em turret, and I observed as I passed that the light was 
lit in the circular room. It was a summer evening, and the 
window, which was a little higher than our heads, was open. 
We were, as it happened, engrossed in our own conversation 
at the moment, and we had paused upon the lawn which 
skirts the old turret, when suddenly something broke in 



92 THE JAPANNED BOX 

upon our talk and turned our thoughts away from our 
own affairs. 

It was a voice — the voice undoubtedly of a woman. It 
was low — so low that it was only in that still night air 
that we could have heard it, but, hushed as it was, there 
was no mistaking its feminine timber. It spoke hurriedly, 
gaspingly for a few sentences, and then was silent — a 
piteous, breathless, imploring sort of voice. Miss With- 
erton and I stood for an instant staring at each other. 
Then we walked quickly in the direction of the hall-door. 

" It came through the window," I said. 

" We must not play the part of eavesdroppers," she 
answered. " We must forget that we have ever heard it." 

There was an absence of surprise in her manner which 
suggested a new idea to me. 

" You have heard it before," I cried. 

" I could not help it. My own room is higher up on the 
same turrpt. It has happened frequently." 

" Who can the woman be? " 

" I have no idea. I had rather not discuss it." 

Her voice was enough to show me what she thought. 
But granting that our employer led a double and dubious 
life, who could she be, this mysterious woman who kept 
him company in the old tower? I knew from my own 
inspection how bleak and bare a room it was. She cer- 
tainly did not live there. But in that case where did 
she come from? It could not be any one of the house- 
hold. They were all under the vigilant eyes of Mrs. Stev- 
ens. The visitor must come from without. But how? 

And then suddenly I remembered how ancient this build- 
ing was, and how probable that some mediaeval passage 



THE JAPANNED BOX 98 

existed in it. There is hardly an old castle without one. 
The mysterious room was the basement of the turret, so 
that if there was anything of the sort it would open- 
through the floor. There were numerous cottages in the 
immediate vicinity. The other end of the secret passage 
might lie among some tangle of bramble in the neighbor- 
ing copse. I said nothing to anyone, but I felt that the 
secret of my employer lay within my power. 

And the more convinced I was of this the more I 
marveled at the manner in which he concealed his true 
nature. Often as I watched his austere figure, I asked 
myself if it were indeed possible that such a man should 
be living this double life, and I tried to persuade myself 
that my suspicions might after all prove to be ill-founded. 
But there was the female voice, there was the secret nightly 
rendezvous in the turret chamber — how could such facts 
admit of an innocent interpretation? I conceived a horror 
of the man, I was filled with loathing at his deep, con- 
sistent hypocrisy. 

Only once during all those months did I ever see him 
without that sad but impassive mask which he usually 
presented toward his fellow-man. For an instant I caught 
a glimpse of those volcanic fires which he had damped 
down so long. The occasion was an unworthy one, for 
the object of his wrath was none other than the aged 
charwoman whom I have already mentioned as being the 
one person who was allowed within his mysterious chamber. 
I was passing the corridor which led to the turret — for 
my own room lay in that direction — when I heard a sud- 
den, startled scream, and merged in it the husky, growling 
note of a man who is inarticulate with passion. It was the 



94 THE JAPANNED BOX 

snarl of a furious wild beast. Then I heard his voice 
thrilling with anger. *' You would dare ! " he cried. '' You 
would dare to disobey my directions ! " An instant later the 
charwoman passed me, flying down the passage, white 
faced and tremulous, while the terrible voice thundered 
behind her. *' Go to Mrs. Stevens for your money ! Never 
set foot in Thorpe Place again ! " Consumed with curi- 
osity, I could not help following the woman, and found her 
round the comer leaning against the wall and palpitating 
like a frightened rabbit. 

'' What is the matter, Mrs. Brown? " I asked. 

'' It's master ! '' she gasped. '' Oh 'ow 'e frightened me ! 
If you had seen 'is eyes, Mr. Colmore, sir. I thought 'e 
would 'ave been the death of me." 

" But what had you done? " 

" Done, sir ! Nothing. At least nothing to make so 
much of. Just laid my 'and on that black box of 'is — 
'adn't even opened it, when in 'e came and you 'eard the 
way 'e went on. I've lost my place, and glad I am of it, 
for I would never trust myself within reach of 'im again." 

So it was the japanned box which was the cause of this 
outburst — the box from which he would never permit 
himself to be separated. What was the connection, or was 
there any connection between this and the secret visits of 
the lady whose voice I had overheard? Sir John BoUa- 
more's wrath was enduring as well as fiery, for from that 
day Mrs. Brown, the charwoman, vanished from our ken, 
and Thorpe Place knew her no more. 

And now I wish to tell you the singular chance which 
solved all these strange questions and put my employer's 
secret in my possession. The story may leave you witl^ 



THE JAPANNED BOX 96 

some lingering doubt as to whether my curiosity did not 
get the better of my honor, and whether I did not con- 
descend to play the spy. If you choose to think so I can- 
not help it, but can only assure you that, improbable as it 
may appear, the matter came about exactly as I describe 
it. 

The first stage in this denouement was that the small 
room on the turret became uninhabitable. This occurred 
through the fall of the worm-eaten oaken beam which sup- 
ported the ceiling. Rotten with age, it snapped in the 
middle one morning, and brought down a quantity of plas- 
ter with it. Fortunately Sir John was not in the room at 
the time. His precious box was rescued from amongst the 
debris and brought into the library, where, henceforward, 
it was locked within his bureau. Sir John took no steps to 
repair the damage, and I never had an opportunity of 
searching for that secret passage, the existence of which I 
had surmised. As to the lady, I had thought that this 
would have brought her visits to an end, had I not 
one evening heard Mr. Richards asking Mrs. Stevens who 
the woman was whom he had overheard talking to Sir John 
in the library. I could not catch her reply, but I saw from 
her manner that it was not the first time that she had had 
to answer or avoid the same question. 

"You've heard the voice, Colmore?" said the agent. 

I confessed that I had. 

"And what do you think of it?" 

I shrugged my shoulders, and remarked that it was no 
business of mine. 

" Come, come, you are just as curious as any of us. Is 
it a woman or not? " 



96 THE JAPANNED BOX 

" It is certainly a woman.'* 

** Which room did you hear it from? " 

**From the turret-room, before the ceiling fell." 

"But I heard it from the library only last night. I 
passed the doors as I was going to bed, and I heard some- 
thing wailing and praying just as plainly as I hear you. 
It may be a woman — " 

" Why, what else could it be? " 

He looked at me hard. 

** There are more things in heaven and earth," said he. 
** If it is a woman, how does she get there? " 

** I don't know." 

" No, nor I. But if it is the other thing — but there, 
for a practical business man at the end of the nineteenth 
century this is rather a ridiculous line of conversation.'* 
He turned away, but I saw that he felt even more than he 
had said. To all the old ghost stories of Thorpe Place a 
new one was being added before our very eyes. It may by 
this time have taken its permanent place, for though an 
explanation came to me, it never reached the others. 

And my explanation came in this way. I had suffered 
a sleepless night from neuralgia, and about mid-day I 
had taken a heavy dose of chlorodyne to alleviate the pain. 
At that time I was finishing the indexing of Sir John 
Bollamore's library, and it was my custom to work there 
from five till seven. On this particular day I struggled 
against the double effect of my bad night and the nar- 
cotic. I have already mentioned that there was a recess in 
the library, and in this it was my habit to work. I settled 
down steadily, to my task, but my weariness overcame me 



THE JAPANNED BOX 97 

and, falling back upon the settee, I dropped into a heavy 
sleep. 

How long I slept I do not know, but it was quite dark 
when I awoke. Confused by the chlorodyne which I had 
taken, I lay motionless in a semi-conscious state. The great 
room with its high walls covered with books loomed darkly 
all around me. A dim radiance from the moonlight came 
through the farther window, and against this lighter back- 
ground I saw that Sir John BoUamore was sitting at his 
study table. His well-set head and clearly cut profile were 
sharply outlined against the glimmering square behind 
him. He bent as I watched him, and I heard the sharp 
turning of a key and the rasping of metal upon metal. As 
if in a dream I was vaguely conscious that this was the 
japanned box which stood in front of him, and that he had 
drawn something out of it, something squat and uncouth, 
which now lay before him upon the table. I never realized 
— it never occurred to my bemuddled and torpid brain 
that I was intruding upon his privacy, that he imagined 
himself to be alone in the room. And then, just as it 
rushed upon my horrified perceptions, and I had half risen 
to €mnounce my presence, I heard a strange, crisp, metallic 
clicking, and then the voice. 

Yes it was a woman's voice ; there could not be a doubt 
of it. But a voice so charged with entreaty and with yearn- 
ing love, that it will ring forever in my ears. It came with 
a curious far-away tinkle, but every word was clear, though 
faint — very faint, for they were the last words of a dy- 
ing woman. 

^* I am not really gone, John," said the thin, gasping 



98 THE JAPANNED BOX 

voice. " I am here at your elbow, and shall be untfl we 
meet once more. I die happy to think that morning and 
night you will hear my voice. Oh, John, be strong, be 
strong, until we meet again." 

I say that I had risen in order to announce my presence, 
but I could not do so while the voice was sounding. I could 
only remain half lying, half sitting, paralyzed, astounded, 
listening to those yearning distant musical words. And he 
— he was so absorbed that even if I had spoken he might 
not have heard me. But with the silence of the voice came 
my half -articulated apologies and explanations. He sprang 
across the room, switched on the electric light, and in its 
white glare I saw him, his eyes gleaming with anger, his 
face twisted with passion, as the hapless charwoman may 
have seen him weeks before. 

**Mr. Colmore!" he cried. "You here! What is the 
meaning of this, sir? " 

With halting words I explained it all, my neuralgia, the 
narcotic, my luckless sleep and singular awakening. As he 
listened the glow of anger faded from his face, and the 
sad, impassive mask closed once more over his features. 

** My secret is yours, Mr. Colmore," said he. " I have 
only myself to blame for relaxing my precautions. Half 
confidences are worse than no confidences, and so you may 
know all since you know so much. The story may go where 
you will when I have passed away, but until then I rely 
upon your sense of honor that no human soul shall hear 
it from your lips, I am proud stiB — God help me! — 
or, at least, I am proud enough to resent that pity which 
this story would draw upcm me. I have smiled at envy, and 
disregarded hatred, but pity is more than I can tolerate. 



THE JAPANNED BOX 99 

" You have heard the source from which the voice comes 
— that voice which has, as I understand, excited so much 
curiosity in my household. I am aware of the rumors to 
which it has given rise. These speculations whether scan- 
dalous or superstitious, are such as I can disregard and 
forgive. What I should never forgive would be a disloyal 
spying and eavesdropping in order to satisfy an illicit 
curiosity. But of that, Mr, Golmore, I acquit you. 

" When I was a young man, sir, many years younger 
than you now, I was launched upon town without a friend 
or ^dy^ey^ and with a purse which brought only too many 
false friends and false advisers to my side. I drank deeply 
of the wine of life — if there is a man living who has drank 
more deeply he is not a man whom I envy. My purse suf- 
fered, my character suffered, my constitution suffered, 
stimulants became a necessity to me, I was a creature from 
whom my memory recoils. And it was at that time, the time 
of my blackest degradation, that God sent into my life 
the gentlest, sweetest spirit that ever descended as a min- 
istering angel from above. She loved me, broken as I was, 
loved me, and spent her life in making a man once more 
of that which had degraded itself to the level of the beasts. 

** But a fell disease struck her, and she withered away 
before my ejf es. In the hour of her agony it was never of 
herself, of her own sufferings and her own death that she 
thought. It was all of me. The one pang which her fate 
brought to her was the fear that when her influence was 
removed I should revert to that which I had been. It was 
in vain that I made oath to her that no drop of wine would 
ever cross my lips. She knew only too well the hold that the 
devil had upon me — she who had striven so to loosen it — 



100 ^ THE JAPANNED BOX 

and it haunted her night and day the thought that my soul 
might again h% ^^ithin his grip. 

" It was from^ome friend's gossip of the sick room that 
she heard of this invention — this phonograph — and with 
the quick insight of a loving woman she saw how she might 
use it for her ends. She sent me to London to procure the 
best which money could buy. With her dying breath she 
gasped into it the words which have held me straight ever 
since. Lonely and broken, what else have I in all the world, 
to uphold me? But it is enough. Please God, I shall face 
her without shame when He is pleased to reunite us ! That 
is my secret, Mr. Colmore, and whilst I live I leave it in 
your keeping.'* 



THE BLACK DOCTOR 

BISHOP'S CROSSING is a small village lying ten 
miles in a south-westerly direction from Liverpool. 
Here in the early seventies there settled a doctor 
named Aloysius Lana. Nothing was known locally either 
of his antecedents or of the reasons which had prompted 
him to come to this Lancashire hamlet. Two facts only 
were certain about him: the one that he had gained his 
medical qualification with some distinction at Glasgow ; the 
other that he came undoubtedly of a tropical race, and was 
so dark that he might almost have had a strain of the In- 
dian in his composition. His predominant features were, 
however, European, and he possessed a stately courtesy and 
carriage which suggested a Spanish extraction. A swarthy 
skin, raven-black hair, and dark, sparkling eyes under a 
pair of heavily-tufted brows made a strange contrast to 
the flaxen or chestnut rustics of England, and the new- 
comer was soon knownr as " The Black Doctor of Bishop's 
Crossing." At first it was a term of ridicule and reproach ; 
as the years went on it became a title of honor which was 
familiar to the whole country-side, and extended far be- 
yond the narrow confines of the village. 

For the newcomer proved himself to be a capable sur- 
geon and an accomplished physician. The practice of 
that district had been in the hands of Edward Rowe, the 
son of Sir William Rowe, the Liverpool consultant, but 

101 



102 THE BLACK DOCTOR 

he had not inherited the talents of his father, and Dr. Lana, 
with his advantages of presence and of manner, soon beat 
him out of the field. Dr. Lana's social success was as rapid 
as his professional. A remarkable surgical cure in the case 
of the Hon. James Lowry, the second son of Lord Belton, 
was the means of introducing him to county society, where 
he became a favorite through the charm of his conversation 
and the elegance of his manners. An absence of antece- 
dents and of relatives is sometimes an aid rather than an 
impediment to social advancement, and the distinguished 
individuality of the handsome doctor was its own recom- 
mendation^ 

His patients had one fault — and one fault only — to 
find with him. He appeared to be a confirmed bachelor. This 
was the more remarkable since the house which he occupied 
was a large one, and it was known that his success in prac- 
tice had enabled him to save considerable sums. At first 
the local match-makers were continually coupling his name 
with one or other of the eligible ladies, but as years passed 
and Dr. Lana remained unmarried, it came to be generally 
understood that for some reason he must remain a bachelor. 
Some even went so far as to assert that he was already mar- 
ried, and that it was in order to escape the consequence 
of an early misalliance that he had buried himself at Bish- 
op's Crossing. And then, just as the match-makers had 
finally given him up in despair, his engagement was sud- 
denly announced to Miss Frances Morton> of Leigh HaU. 

Miss Morton was a young lady who was well known 
upon the country-side, her father, James Haldane Morton, 
having been the Squire of Bishop's Crossing. Both her 
parents were, however, dead, and she lived with her onljr 



THE BLACK DOCTOR 103 

brother, 4iikyx Morton, who had inherited the family es- 
tate. In person Misp Morton was tall and stately, and she 
was famous for her quick, impetuous nature and for her 
strength of character. She met Dr. Lana at a garden- 
party, and a friendship, which quickly ripened into love, 
sprang up between them. Nothing could exceed their de- 
votion to each other. There was some discrepancy in age, 
he being thirty-seven, and she twentjl-f PUT ; but, save in 
that respect, there was no possible objection to be found 
with the match. The engagement was in February, aud it 
was arranged that the marriage should take place in Au- 
gust. 

Upon the ^rd of June Dr. Lana received a letter from 
abroad. In a small village the postmaster is also in a posi- 
tion to be the gossip-master, and Mr. Bankley, of Bishop's 
Crossing, had many of the secrets of his neighbors in his 
possession. Of this particular letter he remarked only that 
it was in a curious envelope, that it was in a man's hand- 
writing, that the postscript was Buenos A.yres, and the 
stamp of the Argentine Republic. It was the first letter 
which he had ever known Dr. Lana to have from abroad, 
and this was the reason why his attention was particularly 
called to it before he handed it to the local postman. It 
was delivered by the evening delivery of that date. 

Next morning — that is, upon the 4th of June — Dr. 
Lana called upon Miss Morton, and a long interview fol- 
lowed, from which he was pbserved to return in a state of 
great agitation. Miss Morton remained in her room all 
that day, and her maid found her several times in tears. In 
the course of a week it was an open secret to the whole vil- 
lage that the engagement was at an end, that Dr. Lana had 



104 THE BLACK DOCTOR 

behaved shamefully to the young lady, and that Arthur 
Morton, her brother, was talking of horse-whipping him. 
In what particular respect the doctor had behaved badly 
was unknown — some surmised one thing and some an- 
other; but it was observed, and taken as the obvious sign 
of a guilty conscience, that he would go for miles round 
rather than pass the windows of Leigh Hall, and that he 
gave up attending morning service upon Sundays where 
he might have met the young lady. There was an adver- 
tisement also in the Lancet as to the sale of a practice 
which mentioned no names, but which was thought by some 
to refer to Bishop's Crossing, and to mean that Dr. Lana 
was thinking of abandoning the scene of his success. Such 
was the position of affairs when, upon the evening of Mon- 
day, June 21st, there came a fresh development which 
changed what had been a mere village scandal into a trag- 
edy which arrested the attention of the whole nation. Some 
detail is necessary to cause the facts of that evening to 
present their full significance. 

The sole occupants of the doctor's house were his house- 
keeper, an elderly and most respectable woman, named 
Martha Woods, and a young servant — Mary Pilling. The 
coachman and the surgery-boy slept out. It was the cus- 
tom of the doctor to sit at night in his study, which was 
next the surgery in the wing of the house which was far- 
thest from the servants' quarters. This side of the house 
had a door of its own for the convenience of patients, so 
that it was possible for the doctor to admit and receive a 
visitor there without the knowledge of anyone. As a mat- 
ter of fact, when patients came late it was quite usual for 
him to let them in and out by the surgery entrance, for the 



THE BLACK DOCTOR 105 

maid and the housekeeper were in the habit of retiring, 
early. 

On this particular night Martha Woods went into the 
doctor's study at half -past nine, and found him writing at 
his desk. She bade him good-night, sent the maid to bed, 
and then occupied herself until a quarter to eleven in 
household matters. It was striking eleven upon the hall 
clock when she went to her own room. She had been there 
about a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes when she 
heard a cry or call, which appeared to come from within 
the house. She waited some time, but it was not repeated. 
Much alarmed, for the sound was loud and urgent, she put 
on a dressing-gown, and ran at the top of her speed to the 
doctor's study. 

'* Who's there? " cried a voice, as she tapped at the door. 

" I am here, sir — Mrs. Woods." 

" I beg that you will leave me in peace. Go back to your 
room this instant ! " cried the voice, which was, to the best 
of her belief, that of her master. The tone was so harsh 
and so unlike her master's usual manner, that she was sur- 
prised and hurt. 

" I thought I heard you calling, sir," she explained, but 
no answer was given to her. Mrs. Woods looked at the 
clock as she returned to her room, and it was then half- 
past eleven. ' 

At some period between eleven and twelve (she could 
not be positive as to the exact hour) a patient called upon 
the doctor and was unable to get any reply from him. This 
late visitor was Mrs. Madding, the wife of the village gro- 
cer, who was dangerously ill of typhoid fever. Dr. Lana 
had asked her to look in the last thing and let him know 



106 THE BLACK DOCTOR 

how her husband was progressing. She observed that the 
light was burning in the study, but having knocked several 
times at the surgery door without response, she concluded 
that the doctor had been called out, and so returned home. 

There is a short, winding drive with a lamp at the end 
of it leading down from the house to the road* As Mrs. 
Madding emerged from the gate a man was coming along 
the footpath. Thinking that it might be Dr. Lana return- 
ing from some professional visit, she waited for him, and 
was surprised to see that it was Mr. Arthur Morton, the 
young squire. In the Ught of the lamp she observed that 
his manner was excited, and that he carried in his hand a 
heavy hunting-crop. He was turning in at the gate when 
she addressed him. 

*' The doctor is not in, sir," said she. 

" How do you know that? " he asked, harshly. 

" I have been to the surgery door, sir." 

*' I see a light," said the young squire, looking up the 
drive. " That is in his study, is it not? " 

" Yes, sir ; but I am sure that he is out." 

** Well, he must come in again," said young Morton, 
and passed through the gate while Mrs. Madding went 
upon her homeward way. 

At three o'clock that morning her husband suffered a 
sharp relapse, and she was so alarmed by his symptoms 
that she determined to call the doctor without delay. As 
she passed through the gate she was surprised to see some 
one lurking among the laurel bushes. It was certainly a 
man, and to the best of her belief Mr. Arthur Morton. 
Preoccupied with her own troubles, she gave no particular 
attention to the incident, but hurried on upon her errand. 



THE BLACK DOCTOR 107 

When she reached the house she perceived to her sur- 
prise that the light was still burning in the study. She 
therefore tapped at the surgery door. There was no an- 
swer. She repeated the knocking several times without ef- 
fect. It appeared to her to be unlikely that the doctor 
would either go to bed or go out leaving so brilliant a 
light behind him, and it struck Mrs. Madding that it was 
possible that he might have dropped asleep in his chair. 
She tapped at the study window, therefore, but without 
result. Then, finding that there was an opening between 
the curtain and the woodwork, she looked through. 

The small room was brilliantly lighted from a large lamp 
on the central table, which was littered with the doctor's 
books and instruments. No one was visible, nor did she see 
anything unusual, except that in the further shadow thrown 
by the table a dingy white glove was lying upon the car- 
pet. And then suddenly, as her eyes became more accus- 
tomed to the light, a boot emerged from the other end of 
the shadow, and she realized, with a thrill of horror, that 
what she had taken to be a glove was the hand of a man, who 
was prostrate upon the floor. Understanding that some- 
thing terrible had occurred, she rang at the front door, 
roused Mrs. Woods, the housekeeper, and the two women 
made their way into the study, having first dispatched the 
maidservant to the police-station. 

At the side of the table, away from the window. Dr. 
Laua was discovered stretched upon his back and quite 
dead. It was evident that he had been subjected to vio- 
lence, for one of his eyes was blackened, and there were 
marks of bruises about his face and neck. A slight thick- 
ening and swelling of his features appeared to suggest 



108 THE BLACK DOCTOR 

that the cause of his death had been strangulation. He 
was dressed in his usual professional clothes, but wore cloth 
slippers, the soles of which were perfectly, clean. The car- 
pet was marked all over, especially on the side of the door 
with traces of dirty boots, which were presumably left by 
the murderer. It was evident that some one had entered 
by the surgery door, had killed the doctor, and had then 
made his escape unseen. That the assailant was a man was 
certain, from the size of the footprints and from the na- 
ture of the injuries. But beyond that point the police 
found it very difficult to go. 

There were no signs of robbery, and the doctor's gold 
watch was safe in his pocket. He kept a heavy cash-box 
In the room, and this was discovered to be locked but 
empty. Mrs. Woods had an impression that a large sum 
was usually kept there, but the doctor had paid a heavy 
com bill in cash only that very day, and it was conjectured 
that it was to this and not to a robber that the emptiness 
of the box was due. One thing in the room was missing — 
but that one thing was suggestive. The portrait of Miss 
Morton, which had always stood upon the side-table, had 
been taken from its frame, and carried off. Mrs. Woods 
had observed it there when she waited upon her employer 
that evening, and now it was gone. On the other hand, 
there was picked up from the floor a green eye-patch, which 
the housekeeper could not remember to have seen before. 
Such a patch might, however, be in the possession of a doc- 
tor, and there was nothing to indicate that it was in any 
way connected with the crime. 

Suspicion could only turn in one direction, and Arthur 
Morton, the young squire, was immediately arrested. The 



THE BLACK DOCTOR 109 

evidence against him was circumstantial, but damning. He 
was devoted to his sister, and it was shown that since the 
rupture between her and Dr. Lana he had been heard 
again and again to express himself in the most vindictive 
terms toward Jier former Joy er. He had, as stated, been 
seen somewhere about eleven o'clock entering the doctor's 
drive with a hunting-crop in his hand. He had then, ac- 
cording to the theory of the police, broken in upon the 
doctor, whose exclamation of fear or of anger had been 
loud enough to attract the attention of Mrs. Woods. When 
Mrs. Woods descended. Dr. Lana had made up his mind 
to talk it over with his visitor, and had, therefore, 
sent his housekeeper back to her room. This conver- 
sation had lasted a long time, had become more and more 
fiery, and had ended by a personal struggle, in which the 
doctor lost his life. The fact, revealed by a post-mortem, 
that his heart was much diseased — an ailment quite un- 
suspected during his life — would make it possible that 
death might in his case ensue from injuries which would 
not be fatal to a healthy man. Arthur Morton had then 
removed his sister's photograph, and had made his way 
homeward, stepping aside into the laurel bushes to avoid 
Mrs. Madding at the gate. This was the theory of the 
prosecution, and the case which they presented was a for- 
midable one. 

On the other hand, there were some strong points for 
the defense. Morton was high-spirited and impetuous, like 
his sister, but he was respected and liked by everyone, and 
his frank and honest nature seemed to be incapable of such 
a crime. His own explanation was that he was anxious to 
have a conversation with Dr. Lana about some urgent f am- 



110 THE BLACK DOCTOR 

ily matters (from first to last he refused even to mention the 
name of his sister). He did not attempt to deny that this 
conversation would probably have been of an unpleasant na- 
ture. He had heard from a patient that the doctor was 
out, and he therefore waited until about three in the morn- 
ing for his return, but as he had seen nothing of him up 
to that hour, he had given it up and had returned home^ 
As to his death, he knew no more about it than the con- 
stable who arrested him. He had formerly been an inti- 
mate friend of the deceased man ; but circumstances, which 
he would prefer not to mention, had brought about a 
change in his sentiments. 

There were several facts which supported his innocence. 
It was certain that Dr. Lana was alive and in his study at 
half -past eleven o'clock. Mrs. Woods was prepared to 
swear that it was at that hour that she had heard his voice. 
The friends of the prisoner contended that it was probable 
that at that time Dr. Lana was not alone. The sound which 
had originally attracted the attention of the housekeeper, 
and her master's unusual impatience that she should leave 
him in peace, seemed to point to that. If that were so, then 
it appeared to be probable that he had met his end between 
the moment when the housekeeper heard his voice and the 
time when Mrs. Madding made her first call and found it 
impossible to attract his attention. But if this were the 
time of his death, then it was certain that Mr. Arthur Mor- 
ton could not be guilty, as it was after this that she had 
met the young squire at the gate. 

If this hypothesis were correct, and someone was with 
Dr. Lana before Mrs. Madding met Mr. Arthur Morton, 
then who was this someone, and what motives had he for 



THE BLACK DOCTOR 111 

wishing evil to the doctor? It was universally admitted that 
if the friends of the accused could throw light upon this, 
they would have gone a long way toward establishing his 
innocence. But in the meanwhile it was open to the public 
to say — as they did say — > that there was no proof that 
anyone had been there at all except the young squire ; 
while, on the other hand, there was ample proof that his 
motives in going were of a sinister kind. When Mrs. Mad- 
ding called the doctor might have retired to his room, or 
he might, as she thought at the time, have gone out and 
returned afterward to find Mr. Arthur Morton waiting 
for him. Some of the supporters of the accused laid stress 
upon the fact that the photograph of his sister Frances, 
which had been removed from the doctor's room, had not 
been found in her brother's possession. This argument, 
however, did not count for much, as he had ample time 
before his arrest to burn it or to destroy it. As to the only 
positive evidence in the case — the muddy footmarks upon 
the floor — they were so blurred by the softness of the car- 
pet that it was impossible to make any trustworthy deduc- 
tion from them. The most that could be said was that their 
appearance was not inconsistent with the theory that they 
were made by the accused, and it was further shown that 
his boots were very muddy upon that night. There had 
been a heavy shower in the afternoon, and all boots were 
probably in the same condition. 

Such is a bald statement of the singular and romantic 
series of events which centered public attention upon this 
Lancashire tragedy. The unknown origin of the doctor, 
his curious and distinguished personality, the position of 
the man who was accused of the murder, and the love affair 



112 THE BLACK DOCTOR 

which had preceded the crime, all combined to make the 
affair one of those dramas which absorb the whole interest 
of a nation. Throughout the three kingdoms men dis- 
cussed the case of the Black Doctor of Bishop's Cross- 
ing, and many were the theories put forward to explain 
the facts ; but it may safely be said that among them all 
there was not one which prepared the minds of the public 
for the extraordinary sequel, which caused so much ex- 
citement upon the first day of the trial, and came to a cli- 
max upon the second. The long files of the Lancaster 
Weekly with their report of the case lie before me as I 
write, but I must content myself with a synopsis of the 
case up to the point when, upon the evening of the first 
day, the evidence of Miss Frances Morton threw a singu- 
lar light upon the case. 

Mr. Porlock Carr^ the counsel for the prosecution, had 
marshaled his facts with his usual skill, and as the day 
wore on, it became more and more evident how difficult 
was the task which Mr. Humphrey, who had been retained 
for the defense, had before him. Several witnesses were 
put up to swear to the intemperate expressions which the 
young squire had been heard to utter about the doctor, and 
the fiery manner in which he resented the alleged ill=treat- 
ment of his sister. Mrs. Madding repeated her evidence 
as to the visit which had been paid late at night by the 
prisoner to the deceased, and it was shown by another wit- 
ness that the prisoner was aware that the doctor was in 
the habit of sitting up alone in this isolated wing of the 
house, and that he had chosen this very late hour to call 
because he knew that his victim would then be at his mercy. 
A servant at the squire's house was compelled to admit 



THE BLACK DOCTOR 113 

that he had heard his master return about three that morn- 
ing, which corroborated Mrs. Madding's statement that she 
had seen him among the laurel bushes near the gate upon 
the occasion of her second visit. The muddy boots and an 
alleged similarity in the footprints were duly dwelt upon, 
and it was felt when the case for the prosecution had been 
presented that, however circimistantial it might be, it was 
none the less so complete and so convincing, that the fate 
of the prisoner was sealed, unless something quite unex- 
pected should be disclosed by the defense. It was three 
o'clock when the prosecution closed. At half -past four, 
when the Court rose, a new and unlooked for development 
had occurred. I extract the incident, or part of it, from 
the journal which I have already mentioned, omitting the 
preliminary observations of the counsel. 

" Considerable sensation was caused in the crowded court 
when the first witness called for the defense proved to be 
Miss Frances Morton, the sister of the prisoner. Our read- 
ers will remember that the young lady had been engaged 
to Dr. Lana, and that it was his anger over the sudden 
termination of this engagement which was thought to have 
driven her brother to the perpetration of this crime. Miss 
Morton had not, however, been directly implicated in the 
case in any way, either at the inquest or at the police-court 
proceedings, and her appearance as the leading witness 
for the defense came as a surprise upon the public. 

Miss Frances Morton, who was a t^ll_and handsome 
brunette, gave her evidence in a low but clear voice, though 
it was evident throughout that she was suffering from ex- 
treme emotion. She alluded to her engagement to the doc- 
tor, touched briefly upon its termination, which was due. 



114 THE BLACK DOCTOR 

she said, to personal matters connected with his family, 
and surprised the Court by asserting that she had always 
considered her brother's resentment to be unreasonable and 
intemperate. In answer to a direct question from her coun- 
sel, she replied that she did not feel that she had any griev- 
ance whatever against Dr. Lana, and that in her opinion 
he had acted in a perfectly honorable manner. Her brother, 
on an insufficient knowledge of the facts, had taken an- 
other view, and she was compelled to acknowledge that, in 
spite of her entreaties, he had uttered threats of personal 
violence against the doctor, and had, upon the evening 
of the tragedy, announced his intention of " having it out 
with him." She had done her best to bring him to a more 
reasonable frame of mind, but he was very headstrong 
where his emotions or prejudices were concerned. 

Up to this point the young lady's evidence had appeared 
to make against the prisoner rather than in his favor. 
The questions of her counsel, however, soon put a very 
different light upon the matter, and disclosed an unex- 
pected line of defense. 

Mr. Humphrey: Do you believe your brother to be 
guilty of this crime? 

The Judge: I cannot permit that question, Mr. Hum- 
phrey. We are here to decide upon questions of fact— - 
not of belief. 

Mr. Humphrey : Do you know that your brother is not 
guilty of the death of Doctor Lana? 

Miss Morton: Yes. 

Mr. Humphrey : How do you know it ? 

Miss Morton: Because Dr. Lana is not dead. 



THE BLACK DOCTOR 116 

There followed a prolonged sensation in court, which 
interrupted the cross-examination of the witness. 

Mr. Humphrey: And how do you know, Miss Morton, 
that Dr. Lana is not dead? 

Miss Morton : Because I have received a letter from him 
since the date of his supposed death. 

Mr. Humphrey: Have you this letter? 

Miss Morton : Yes, but I should prefer not to show it. 

Mr. Humphrey: Have you the envelope? 

Miss Morton: Yes, it is here. 

Mr. Humphrey : What is the post-mark? 

Miss Morton: Liverpool. 

Mr. Humphrey: And the date? 

Miss Morton : June the SSnd. 

Mr. Humphrey: That being the day ^^taxuhis alleged 
death. Are you prepared to swear to this handwriting. Miss 
Morton? 

Miss Morton: Certainly. 

Mr. Humphrey: I am prepared to call six other wit- 
nesses, my lord, to testify that this letter is in the writing 
of Doctor Lana. 

The Judge: Then you must call them to-morrow. 
• J^. Porlpck Carr (counsel for the prosecution) : In the 
meantime, my lord, we claim possession of this document, 
so that we may obtain expert evidence as to how far it is 
an imitation of the handwriting of the gentleman whom 
we still confidently assert to be deceased. I need not point 
out that the theory so unexpectedly sprung upon us may 
prove to be a very obvious device adopted by the friends 
of the prisoner in order. to divert this inquiry. I would 
draw attention to the fact that the young lady must, ac- 



116 THE BLACK DOCTOR 

cording to her own account, have possessed this letter dur- 
ing the proceedings at the inquest and at the police-court. 
She desires us to believe that she permitted these to pro- 
ceed, although she held in her pocket evidence which would 
at any moment have brought them to an end. 

Mr. Humphrey: Can you explain this, Miss Morton? 

Miss Morton: Dr. Lana desired his secret to be pre- 
served. 

Mr. Porlock Carr: Then why have you made this pub- 
he? 

Miss Morton : To save my brother, 

A murmur of sympathy broke out in court, which was 
instantly suppressed by the Judge. 

The Judge: Admitting this line of defense, it lies with 
you, Mr. Humphrey, to throw a light upon who this man 
is whose body has been recognized by so many friends and 
patients of Dr. Lana as being that of the doctor himself. 

A Juryman : Has anyone up to now expressed any doubt 
about the matter? 

Mr. Porlock Carr: Not to my knowledge. 

Mr. Humphrey: We hope to make the matter clear. 

The Judge: Then the Court adjourns until to-morrow.'* 

This new development of the case excited the utmost 
interest among the general public. Press comment was pre- 
vented by the fact that the trial was still undecided, but 
the question was everywhere argued as to how far there 
could be truth in Miss Morton's declaration, and how far 
it might be a daring ruse for the purpose of saving her 
brother. The obvious dilemma in which the missing doctor 
stood was that if by any extraordinary chance he was not 



^HE BLACK DOCTOR 117 

dead, then he mtu$t be held responsible for the death of this 
unknown man, who resembled him so exactly, and who was 
found in his study. This letter which Miss Morton refused 
to produce was possibly a confession of guilt, and she 
might find herself in the terrible position of only being able 
to save her brother from the gallows by the sacrifice of her 
former lover. The court next morning was crammed to over- 
flowing, and a murmur of excitement passed over it when 
Mr. Humphrey was observed to enter in a state of emo- 
tion, which even his trained nerves could not conceal, and 
to confer with the opposing counsel. A few hurried words 
— words which left a look of amazement upon Mr. Porlock 
Carr's face — passed between them, and then the counsel 
for the defense, addressing the judge, announced that, 
with the consent of the prosecution, the young lady 
who had given evidence upon the sitting before would not 
be recalled 

The Judge: But you appear, Mr. Humphrey, to have 
left matters in a very unsatisfactory state. 

Mr. Humphrey : Perhaps, my lord, my next witness may 
help to clear them up. 

The Judge : Then call your next witness. 

Mr. Humphrey: I call Dr. Aloysius Lana. 

The learned counsel has made many telling remarks, in 
his day, but he has certainly never produced such a sensa- 
tion with so short a sentence. The Court was simply stunned 
with amazement as the very man whose fate had been 
the subject of so much contention appeared bodily before 
them in the witness-box. Those among the spectators who 
had known him at Bishop's Crossing saw him now, gaunt 



118 THE BLACK DOCTOR 

and thin, with deep lines of care upon his face. But in 
spite of his melancholy bearing and despondent expression, 
there were few who could say that they had ever seen a man 
of more distinguished presence. Bowing to the judge, he 
asked if he might be allowed to make a statement, apd hav- 
ing been duly informed that whatever Jhte said might 
be used against him, he bowed once mores ^^d proceeded: — 

" My wish," said he, " is to hold nothing back, but to 
tell with perfect frankness all that occurred upon the night 
of the 91 st of June. Had I known that the innocent had 
suffered, and that so much trouble had been brought upon 
those whom I love best in the world, I should have come 
forward long ago ; but there were reasons which prevented 
these things from coming to my ears. It was my desire that 
an unhappy man should vanish from the world which had 
known him, but I had not foreseen that others would be 
affected by my actions. Let me to the best of my ability 
repair the evil which I have done. 

" To anyone who is acquainted with the history of the 
Argentine Republic the name of Lana is well known. My 
father, who came of the best blood of old Spain, filled all 
the highest offices of the State, and would have been Presi- 
dent but for his death in the riots of San Juan. A bril- 
liant career might have been open to my twin brother Ern- 
est and myself had it not been for financial losses wliich' 
made it necessary that we should earn our own living. I 
apologize, sir, if these details appear to be irrelevant, but 
they are a necessary introduction to that which is to fol- 
low. 

** I had, as I have said, a twin brother named E rnest , 
whose resemblance to me was so great that even when we 



THE BLACK DOCTOR 119 

were together people could see no difference between us. 
Down to the smallest detail we were exactly the same. As 
we grew older this likeness became less marked because our 
expression was not the same, but with our features in re- 
pose the points of difference were very slight. 

" It does not become me to say too much of one who is 
dead, the more so as he is my only brother, but I leave his 
character to those who knew him best. I will ony say — 
for I have to say it — that in my early manhood I con- 
ceived a horror of him, and that I had good reason for the 
aversion which filled me. My own reputation suffered from 
his actions for our close resemblance caused me to be 
credited with many of them. Eventually, in a peculiarly 
disgraceful business, he contrived to throw the whole odium 
upon me in such a way, t hat I was forced to leave the Ar- 
gentine forever, and to seek a career in Europe. The free- 
dom from his hated presence more than compensated me 
for the loss of my native land. I had enough money to de- 
fray my medical studies at Glasgow, and I finally settled 
in practice at Bishop's Crossing, in the firm conviction that 
in that remote Lancashire hamlet I should never hear of 
him again. 

" For years my hopes were fulfilled, and then at last he 
discovered me. Some Liverpool man who visited Buenos 
Ayres put him upon my track. He had lost all his money, 
and he thought that he would come over and share mine. 
Knowing my horror of him, he rightly thought that I 
would be willing to buy him off. I received a letter from 
him saying that he was coming. It was at a crisis in my 
own affairs, and his arrival might conceivably bring trou- 
ble, and even disgrace, upon some whom I was especially 



120 THE BLACK DOCTOR 

bound to shield from anything of the kind. I took steps 
to insure that any evil which might come should fall on 
me only, and that " — here he turned and looked at the 
prisoner — '^ was the cause of conduct upon my part which 
has been too harshly judged. My only motive was to screen 
those who were dear to me from any possible connection 
with scandal or disgrace. That scandal and disgrace would 
come with my brother was only to say that what had been 
would be again. 

" My brother arrived himself one night not very long 
after my receipt of the letter. I was sitting in my study 
after the servants had gone to bed, when I heard a foot- 
step upon the gravel outside, and an instant later I saw 
his face looking in at me through the window. He was a 
clean-shaven man like myself, and the resemblance between 
us was still so great that, for an instant, I thought it was 
my own reflection in the glass. He had a dark patch over 
his eye, but our features were absolutely the same. Then he 
smiled in a sardonic way which had been a trick of his from 
his boyhood, and I knew that he was the same brother who 
had driven me from my native land, and brought disgrace 
upon what had been an honorable name. I went to the 
door and I admitted him. That would be about ten o'clock 
that night. 

" When he came into the glare of the lamp, I saw at 
once that he had fallen upon very evil days. He had walked 
from Liverpool, and he was tired and ill. I was quite 
shocked by the expression upon his face. My medical 
knowledge told me that there was some serious internal 
malady. He had been drinking also, and his face was bruised 
as the result of a scuffle which he had had with some sailors. 



THE BLACK DOCTOR 121 

It was to cover his injured eye that he wore this patchji 
which he removed when he entered the room. He was him- 
self dressed in a pea-jacket and flannel shirt, and his feet 
were bursting through his boots. But his poverty had only 
made him more savagely vindictive toward me. His hatred 
rose to the height of a mania. I had been rolling in money 
in England, according to his account, while he had been 
starving in South America. I cannot describe to you the 
threats which he uttered or the insults which he poured 
upon me. My impression is, that hardships and debauch- 
ery had unhinged his reason. He paced about the room 
like a wild beast, demanding drink, demanding money, and 
all in the foulest language. I am a hot-tempered man, but 
I thank God that I am able to say that I remained master 
of myself, and that I never raised a hand against him. My 
coolness only irritated him the more. He raved, he cursed, 
he shook his fists in my face, and then suddenly a horrible 
spasm passed over his features, he clapped his hand to his 
side, and jEiti]La. loud cry he fell in a heap at my feet. I 
raised him up and stretched him upon the sofa, but no an- 
swer came to my exclamations, and the hand which I held 
in mine was cold and clammy. His diseased heart had broken 
down. His own violence had killed him. 

" For a long time I sat as if I were in some dreadful 
dream, staring at the body of my brother. I was aroused 
by the knocking of Mrs. Woods, who had been disturbed by 
that dying cry. I sent her away to bed. Shortly after- 
ward a patient J;apped at the surgery door, but as I took 
no notice, he or she went off again. Slowly and gradually 
as I sat there a plan was forming itself in my head in the 
curious automatic way in which plans do form. When I 



122 THE BLACK DOCTOR 

rose from my chair my future movements were finally de- 
cided upon without my having been conscious of any pro- 
cess of thought. It was an instinct which irresistibly in- 
clined me toward one course. 

" Ever since that change in my affairs to which I have 
alluded, Bishop's Crossing had become hateful to me. My 
plans of life had been ruined, and I had met with hasty 
judgments and unkind treatment where I had expected 
sympathy. It is true that any danger of scandal from my 
brother had passed away with his life ; but still, I was sore 
about the past, and felt that things could never be as they 
had been. It may be that I was unduly sensitive, and that 
I had not made sufficient allowance for others, but my feel- 
ings were as I describe. Any chance of getting away from 
Bishop's Crossing and of everyone in it would be most wel- 
come to me. And here was such a chance as I could never 
have dared to hope for, a chance which would enable me to 
make a clean break with the past. 

" There was this dead man lying upon the sofa, so like 
me that save for some little thickness and coarseness of the 
features there was no difference at all. No one had seen 
him come and no one would miss him. We were both clean- 
shaven, and his hair was about the same length as my own. 
If I changed clothes with him, then Dr. Aloysius Lana 
would be found lying dead in his study, and there would 
be an end of an unfortunate fellow, and of a blighted ca- 
reer. There was plenty of ready money in the room, and 
this I could carry away with me to help me to start once 
more in some other land. In my brother's clothes I could 
walk by night unobserved as far as Liverpool, and in that 
great seaport I would soon fmd some means of leaving the 



THE BLACK DOCTOR 123 

country. After my lost hopes, the humblest existence where 
I was unknown was far preferable in my estiination to a 
practice, however successful, in Bishop's Crossing, where 
at any moment I might come face to face with those whom 
I should wish, if it were possible, to forget. I determined 
to effect the change. 

" And I did so. I will not go into particulars, for the 
recollection is as painful as the experience ; but in an hour 
my brother lay, dressed down to the smallest detail in my 
clothes, while I slunk out by the surgery door, and taking 
the back path which led across some fields, I started off to 
make the best of my way to Liverpool, where I arrived the 
same night. My. bag of money and a_cer tain portrait were 
all I carried out of the house, and I left behind me in my 
hurry the shade which my brother had been wearing over 
his eye. Everything else of his I took with me. 

** I give you my word, sir, that never for one instant did 
the idea occur to me that people might think that I had 
been murdered, nor did I imagine that anyone might be 
caused serious danger through this stratagem by which I 
endeavored to gain a fresh start in the world. On the con- 
trary, it was the thought of relieving others from the bur- 
den of my presence which was always uppermost in my 
mind. A sailing vessel was leaving Liverpool that very day 
for Corunna, and in this I took my passage, thinking that 
the voyage would give me time to recover my balance, and 
to consider the future. But before I left my resolution 
softened. I bethought me that there was oDie. person in the 
icorld to, whom. I would not cause an hour of sadness. She 
would mourn me in her heart, however harsh and unsym- 
pathetic her relatives might be. She understood and appre- 



124 THE BLACK DOCTOR 

ciated the motives upon which I had acted, and if the rest 
of her family condemned me, she, at least, would not for- 
get. And so I sent her a note under the seal of secrecy to 
save her frcMn a baseless grief. If under the pressure of 
events she broke that seal, she has my entire sympathy and 
forgiveness. 

" It was only last night that I returned to England, and 
during all this time I have heard nothing of the sensation 
which my supposed death had caused, nor of the accusa- 
tion that Mr. Arthur Morton had been concerned in it. 
It was in a late evening paper that I read an account of 
the proceedings of yesterday, and I have come this morn- 
ing as fast as an express train could bring me to testify to 
the truth." 

Such was the remarkable statement of Dr. Aloysius Lana 
which brought the trial to a sudden termination. A subse- 
quent investigation corroborated it to the extent of finding 
out the vessel in which his brother Ernest Lana had come 
over from South America. The ship's doctor was able to 
testify that he had complained of a weak heart during the 
voyage, and that his symptoms were consistent with such a 
death as was described. 

As to Dr. Aloysius Lana, he returned to the village 
from which he had made so dramatic a disappearance, and 
a complete reconciliation was effected between him and the 
young squire, the latter having acknowledged that he had 
entirely misunderstood the other's motives in withdrawing 
from his engagement. That another reconciliation fol- 
lowed may be judged from a notice extracted from a prom- 
inent column in the Morning Post: — 



THE BLACK DOCTOR 125 

A marriage was solemnized upon September 19th, by 
the Rev. Stephen Johnson, at the parish church of Bish- 
op's Crossing, between Aloysius Xavier Lana, son of Don 
Alfredo Lana, formerly Foreign Minister of the Argen- 
tine Republic, and Frances Morton, only daughter of the 
late James Morton, J.P., of Leigh Hall, Bishop's Cross- 
ing, Lancashire. 



PLAYING WITH FIRE 

I CANNOT pretend to say what occurred on the 14th 
of April last at No. 17, Badderly Gardens. Put 
down in black and white, my surmise might seem 
too crude, too grotesque, for serious consideration. And 
yet that something did occur, and that it was of a nature 
which will leave its mark upon every one of us for the 
rest of our lives, is as certain as the unanimous testimony 
of five witnesses can make it. I will not enter into any 
argument or speculation. I will only give a plain state- 
ment, which will be submitted to John Moir, Harvey 
Deacon, and Mrs. Delamere, and withheld from publica- 
tion unless they are prepared to corroborate every detail. 
I cannot obtain the sanction of Paul Le Due, for he 
appears to have left the country. 

It was John Moir (the well-known senior partner of 
Moir, Moir, and Sanderson), who had originally turned 
our attention to occult subjects. He had, like many very 
hard and practical men of business, a mystic side to his 
nature, which had led him to the examination, and eventu- 
ally to the acceptance, of those elusive phenomena which 
are grouped together with much that is foolish, and much 
that is fraudulent, under the common heading of spiritu- 
alism. His researches, which had begun with an open 
mind, ended unhappily in dogma, and he became as positive 
and fanatical as any other bigot. He represented in our 

126 



PLAYING WITH FIRE 127 

little group the body of men who have turned these sin- 
gular phenomena into a new religion. 

Mrs. Delamere, our medium, was his sister, the wife of 
Delamere, the rising sculptor. Our experience had shown 
us that to work on these subjects without a medium was 
as futile as for an astronomer to make observations without 
a telescope. On the other hand, the introduction of a paid 
medium was hateful to all of us. Was it not obvious that 
he or she would feel bound to return some result for money 
received, and that the temptation to fraud would be an 
overpowering one? No phenomena could be reUed upon 
which were produced at a guinea an hour. But, fortu- 
nately, Moir had discovered that his sister was mediumis- 
tic — in other words, that she was a battery of that animal 
magnetic force which is the only form of energy which 
is subtle enough to be acted upon from the spiritual plane 
as well as from our own material one. Of course, when I 
say this, I do not mean to beg the question; but I am 
simply indicating the theories upon which we were our- 
selves, rightly, or wrongly, explaining what we saw. The 
lady came, not altogether with the approval of her husband, 
and though she never gave indications of any very great 
psychic force, we were able, at least, to obtain those usual 
phenomena of message-tilting which are at the same time 
so puerile and so inexplicable. Every Sunday evening we 
met in Harvey Deacon's studio at Badderly Gardens, the 
next house to the comer of Merton Park Road. 

Harvey Deacon's imaginative work in art would prepare 
any one to find that he was an ardent lover of everything 
which was outrS and sensational. A certain picturesqueness 
in the study of the occult had been the quality which had 



188 PLAYING WITH FIRE 

originally attracted him to it, but his attentior • peed- 
ily arrested by some of those phenomena to ^ \ have 

referred, and he was ccMning rapidly to the co • q that 
what he had looked upon as an amusing romance and an 
after-dinner entertainment was really a very formidable 
reality. He is a man with a remarkably clear and logical 
brain — a true descendant of his ancestor, the well-known 
Scotch professor — and he represented in our small circle 
the critical element, the man who has no prejudices, is 
prepared to follow facts as far as he can see them, and 
refuses to theorize in advance of his data. His caution 
annoyed Moir as much as the latter's robust faith amused 
Deacon, but each in his own way was equally keen upon 
the matter. 

And I? What am I to say that I represented? I was 
not the devotee. I was not the scientific critic. Perhaps the 
best that I can claim for myself is that I was the dilettante 
man about town, anxious to be in the swim of every fresh 
movement, thankful for any new sensation which would 
take me out of myself and open up fresh possibilities of 
existence. I am not an enthusiast myself, but I like the 
company of those who are. Moir's talk, which made me 
feel as if we had a private pass-key through the door of 
death, filled me with a vague contentment. The soothing 
atmosphere of the stance with the darkened lights was 
delightful to me. In a word, the thing amused me, and 
so I was there. 

It was, as I have said, upon the 14th of April last that 
the very singular event which I am about to put upon 
record took place. I was the first of the men to arrive at 
the studio, but Mrs. Delamere was already there, having 



PLAYING WITH FIRE 129 

had afternoon tea with Mrs. Harvey Deacon. The two 
ladies and Deacon himself were standing in front of an 
unfinished picture of his upon the easel. I am not an 
expert in art, and I have never professed to understand 
what Harvey Deacon meant by his pictures; but I could 
see in this instance that it was all very clever and imagina- 
tive, fairies and animals and allegorical figures of all sorts. 
The ladies were loud in their praises, and indeed the color 
effect was a remarkable one. 

*' What do you think of it, Markham? " he asked. 

*' Well, it's above me," said I. " These beasts — what 
are they? " 

" Mythical monsters, imaginary creatures, heraldic em- 
blems — a sort of weird, bizarre procession of them.'' 

'* With a white horse in front ! " 

" It's not a horse," said he, rather testily — which was 
surprising, for he was a very good-humored fellow as a 
rule, and hardly ever took himself seriously. 

"What is it, then?" 

"Can't you see the horn in front? It's a unicorn. I 
told you they were heraldic beasts. Can't you recognize 
one?" 

" Very sorry. Deacon," said I, for he really; seemed to 
be annoyed. 

He laughed at his own irritation. 

" Excuse me, Markham ! " said he ; " the fact is that 
I have had an awful job over the beast. All day I have 
been painting him in and painting him out, and trying 
to imagine what a real live, ramping unicorn would look 
like. At last I got him, as I hoped ; so when you failed to 
recognize it, it took me on the raw." 



130 PLAYING WITH FIRE 

" Why, of course it's a unicorn," said I, for he was 
evidently depressed at my obtuseness. " I can see the horn 
quite plainly, but I never saw a unicorn except beside the 
Royal Arms, and so I never thought of the creature. And 
these others are griffins and cockatrices, and dragons of 
sorts? " 

" Yes, I had no difficulty with them. It was the unicorn 
which bothered me. However, there's an end of it until 
to-morrow." He turned the picture round upon the easel, 
and we all chatted about other subjects. 

Moir was late that evening, and when he did arrive he 
brought with him, rather to our surprise, a small, stout 
Frenchman, whom he introduced as Monsieur Paul Le 
Due. I say to our surprise, for we held a theory that any 
intrusion into our spiritual circle deranged the conditions, 
and introduced an element of suspicion. We knew that 
we could trust each other, but all our results were vitiated 
by the presence of an outsider. However, Moir soon recon- 
ciled us to the innovation. Monsieur Paul Le Due was a 
famous student of occultism, a seer, a medium, and a 
mystic. He was traveling in England with a letter of 
introduction to Moir from the President of the Parisian 
brothers of the Rosy Cross. What more natural than that 
he should bring him to our little seance, or that we should 
feel honored by his presence? 

He was, as I have said, a small, stout man, undistin- 
guished in appearance, with a broad, smooth, clean-shaven 
face, remarkable only for a pair of large, brown velvety 
eyes, staring vaguely out in front of him. He was well 
dressed, with the manners of a gentleman, and his curious 



PLAYING WITH FIRE 131 

little turns of English speech set the ladles smiling. Mrs. 
Deacon had a prejudice against our researches and left 
the room, upon which we lowered the lights, as was our 
custom, and drew up our chairs to the square mahogany 
table which stood in thi» center of the studio. The light 
was subdued, but sufScieni to allow us to see each other 
quite plainly. I remember that I could even observe the 
curious, podgy little square-topped hands which the French- 
man laid upon the table. 

" What a fun ! " said he. "It is many years since I have 
sat in this fashion, and it is to me amusing. Madame is 
medium. Does madame make the trance? " 

" Well, hardly that," said Mrs. Delamere. " But I am 
always conscious of extreme sleepiness." 

" It is the first stage. Then you encourage it, and there 
comes the trance. When the trance comes, then out jumps 
your little spirit and in jumps another little spirit, and 
so you have direct talking or writing. You leave your ma- 
chine to be worked by another. Heinf But what have uni- 
corns to do with it? " 

Harvey Deacon started in his chair. The Frenchman 
was moving his head slowly round and staring into the 
shadows which draped the walls. 

" What a fun ! " said he. " Always unicorns. Who has 
been thinking so hard upon a subject so bizarre? " 

" This is wonderful ! " cried Deacon. " I have been try- 
ing to paint one all day. But how could you know it? " 

** You have been thinking of them in this room." 

" Cei-tainly." 

**But thoughts are things, my friend. When you im- 



132 PLAYING WITH FIRE 

agine a thing you make a thing. You did not know it, 
heinf But I can see your unicorns because it is not only 
with my eye that I can see." 

" Do you mean to say that I create a thing which has 
never existed by merely thinking of it? '' 

" But certainly. It is the fact which lies under all other 
facts. That is why an evil thought is also a danger." 

"They are, I suppose, upon the astral plane?" said 
Moir. 

" Ah, well, these are but words, my friends. They are 
there — somewhere — everywhere — I cannot tell myself. 
I see them. I could not touch them." 

" You could not make us see them." 

" It is to materialize them. Hold ! It is an experiment. 
But the power is wanting. Let us see what power we have, 
and then arrange what we shall do. May I place you as 
I should wish? " 

" You evidently know a great deal more about it than 
we do," said Harvey Deacon ; " I wish that you would take 
complete cpntrol." 

" It may be that the conditions are not good. But we 
will try what we can do, Madame will sit where she is, I 
next, and this gentleman beside me. Meester Moir will 
sit next to madame, because it is well to have blacks and 
blondes in turn. So ! And now with your permission I will 
turn the lights all out." 

" What is the advantage of the dark? " I asked. 

" Because the force with which we deal is a vibration of 
ether and so also is light. We have the wires all for our- 
selves now — heinf You will not be frightened in the 
darkness, madame? What a fun is such a seance!" 



PLAYING WITH FIRE 133 

At first the darkness appeared to be absolutely pitchy, 
but in a few minutes our eyes became so far accustomed 
to it that we could just make out each other's presence — 
very dimly and vaguely, it is true. I could see nothing else 
in the room — only the black loom of the motionless figures. 
We were all taking the matter much more seriously than 
we had ever done before. 

** You will place your hands in front. It is hopeless 
that we touch, since we are so few round so large a table. 
You will compose yourself, madame, and if sleep should 
come to you you will not fight against it. And now we 
sit in silence and we expect — hem? " 

Se we sat in silence and expected, staring out into the 
blackness in front of us. A clock ticked in the passage. 
A dog barked intermittently far away. Once or twice a 
cab rattled past in the street, and the gleam of its lamps 
through the chink in the curtains was a cheerful break 
in that gloomy vigil. I felt those physical symptoms with 
which previous seances had made me familiar — the cold- 
ness of the feet, the tingling in the hands, the glow of the 
palms, the feeling of a cold wind upon the back. Strange 
little shooting pains came in my forearms, especially as- 
it seemed to me in my left one, which was nearest to our 
visitor — due no doubt to disturbance of the vascular sys- 
tem, but worthy of some attention all the same. At the 
same time I was conscious of a strained feeling of ex- 
pectancy which was almost painful. From the rigid, ab- 
solute silence of my companions I gathered that their 
nerves were as tense as my own. 

And then suddenly a sound came out of the darkness — 
a low, sibilant sound, the quick, thin breathing of a woman. 



184 PLAYING WITH FIRE 

Quicker and thinner yet it came, as between clenched teeth, 
to end in a loud gasp with a dull rustle of cloth. 

"What's that? Is all right?" someone asked in the 
darkness. 

" Yes, all is right," said the Frenchman. '* It is madame. 
She is in her trance. Now, gentlemen, if you will wait 
quiet you will see something I think which will interest 
you much." 

Still the ticking in the hall. Still the breathing, deeper 
and fuller now, from the medium. Still the occasional 
flash, more welcome than ever, of the passing lights of 
the hansoms. What a gap we were bridging, the half- 
raised veil of the eternal on the one side and the cabs of 
London on the other. The table was throbbing with a 
mighty pulse. It swayed steadily, rhythmically, with an 
easy swooping, scooping motion under our fingers. Sharp 
little raps and cracks came from its substance, file-firing, 
volley-firing, the sounds of a fagot burning briskly on a 
frosty night. 

" There is much power," said the Frenchman. " See it 
on the table!" 

I had thought it was some delusion of my own, but 
all could see it now. There was a greenish-yellow phos- 
phorescent light — or I should say a luminous vapor 
rather than a light — which lay over the surface of the 
table. It rolled and wreathed and undulated in dim glim- 
mering folds, turning and swirling like clouds of smoke. 
I could see the white, square-ended hands of the French 
medium in this baleful light. 

" What a fun ! " he cried. " It is splendid ! " 

" Shall we call the alphabet? " asked Moir. 



PLAYING WITH FIRE 135 

" But no — for we can do much better," said our visitor. 
" It is but a clumsy thing to tilt the table for every letter 
of the alphabet, and with such a medium as madame we 
should do better than that." 

" Yes, you will do better," said a voice. 

"Who was that? Who spoke? Was that you, Mark- 
ham?" 

" No, I did not speak." 

" It was madame who spoke." 

** But it was not her voice." 

" Is that you, Mrs. Delamere? " 

" It is not the medium, but it is the power which uses 
the organs of the medium," said the strange, deep voice. 

" Where is Mrs. Delamere? It will not hurt her, I trust." 

'*The medium is happy in another plane of existence. 
She has taken my place, as I have taken hers." 

"Who are you? " 

" It cannot matter to you who I am. I am one who has 
lived as you are living, and who has died as you will 
die." 

We heard the creak and grate of a cab pulling up next 
door. There was an argument about the fare, and the 
cabman grumbled hoarsely down the street. The green- 
yellow cloud still swirled faintly over the table, dull else- 
where, but glowing into a dim luminosity in the direction 
of the medium. It seemed to be piling itself up in front of 
her. A sense of fear and cold struck into my heart. It 
seemed to me that lightly and flippantly we had approached 
the most real and august of sacraments, that communion 
with the dead of which the fathers of the Church had 
spoken. 



186 PLAYING WITH FIRE 

" Don't you think we are going too far? Should we 
not break up this seance? " I cried. 

But the others were all earnest to see the end of it. They 
laughed at my scruples. 

" All the powers are made for use," said Harvey Deacon. 
'* If we can do this, we shovld do this. Every new depart- 
ure of knowledge has been called unlawful in its inception. 
It is right and proper that we should inquire into the 
nature of death." 

" It is right and proper," said the voice. 

" There, what more could you ask? " cried Moir, who 
was much exicted. " Let us have a test. Will you give us 
a test that you are really there? " 

" What test do you demand? " 

" Well, now — I have some coins in my pocket. Will 
you tell me how many ? " 

" We come back in the hope of teaching and of elevat- 
ing, and not to guess childish riddles." 

" Ha, ha, Meester Moir, you catch it that time," cried 
the Frenchman. " But surely this is very good sense what 
the Control is saying." 

** It is a religion, not a game," said the cold, hard voice. 

" Exactly — the very view I take of it," cried Moir. 
'* I am sure I am very sorry if I have asked a foolish 
question. You will not tell me who you are? " 

" What does it matter? " 

" Have you been a spirit long? " 

" Yes." 

" How long? " 

" We cannot reckon time as you do. Our conditions are 
different." 



PLAYING WITH FIRE 137 

"Are you happy?" 

" Yes." 

" You would not wish to come back to life? " 

" No — certainly not." 

" Are you busy? " 

" We could not be happy if we were not busy,". 

"What do you do?" 

" I have said that the conditions are entirely different." 

" Can you give us no idea of your work? " 

"We labor for our own improvement and for the ad- 
vancement of others." 

" Do you like coming here to-night? " 

" I am glad to come if I can do any good by coming." 

" Then to do good is your object? " 

" It is the object of all life on every plane. 

" You see, Markham, that should answer your scruples." 

It did, for my doubts had passed and only interest 
remained. 

" Have you pain in your life? " I asked. 

" No, pain is a thing of the body." 

"Have you mental pain?" 

" Yes, one may always be sad or anxious." 

" Do you meet the friends whom you have known on 
earth?" 

" Some of them." 

"Why only some of them?" 

" Only those who are sympathetic." 

"Do husbands meet wives?" 

" Those who have truly loved." 

"And the others?" 

" They are nothing to each other." 



138 PLAYING WITH FIRE 

" There must be a spiritual connection? " 

" Of course." 

"Is what we are doing right?" 

" If done in the right spirit." 

" What is the wrong spirit? " 

" Curiosity and levity." 

" May harm come of that? " 

" Very serious harm." 

" What sort of harm? " 

" You may call up forces over which you have no con- 
trol." 

"Evil forces?" 

" Undeveloped forces." 

"You say they are dangerous. Dangerous to body or 
mind?" 

" Sometimes to both." 

There was a pause, and the blackness seemed to grow 
blacker still, while the yellow-green fog swirled and 
smoked upon the table." 

" Any questions you would like to ask, Moir? " said 
Harvey Deacon. 

" Only this — do you pray in your world? " 

" One should pray in every world." 

"Why?" 

" Because it is the acknowledgment of forces outside 
ourselves." 

" What religion do you hold over there? " 

" We differ exactly as you do." 

** You have no certain knowledge ? " 

" We have only faith." 

** These questions of religion," said the Frenchman, 



PLAYING WITH FIRE 139 

**they are of interest to you serious English people, but 
they are not so much fun. It seems to me that with this 
power here we might be able to have some great experience 
— hein? Something of which we could talk." 

" But nothing could be more interesting than this," 
said Moir. 

" Well, if you think so, that is very well," the French- 
man answered, peevishly. " For my part, it seems to me 
that I h^ve heard all this before, and that to-night I should 
weesh to try some experiment with all this force which is 
given to us. But if you have other questions, then ask 
them, and when you are finish we can try something more." 

But the spell was broken. We asked and asked, but the 
medium sat silent in her chair. Only her deep, regular 
breathing showed that she was there. The mist still swirled 
upon the table. 

" You have disturbed the harmony. She will not an- 
swer." 

" But we have learned already all that she can tell — 
heinf For my part I wish to see something that I have 
never seen before." 

"What then?" 

"You will let me try?" 

"What would you do?" 

"I have said to you that thoughts are things. Now 
I wish to prove it to you, and to show you that which 
is only a thought. Yes, yes, I can do it and you will see. 
Now I ask you only to sit still and say nothing, and keep 
ever your hands quiet upon the table." 

The room was blacker and more silent than ever. The 
same feeling of apprehension which had lain heavily upon 



140 PLAYING WITH FIRE 

me at the beginning of the stance was back at my heart 
once more. The roots of my hair were tingling. 

" It is working ! It is working ! " cried the Frenchman, 
and there was a crack in his voice as he spoke which told 
me that he also was strung to his tightest. 

The luminous fog drifted slowly off the table, and 
wavered and flickered across the room. There in the farther 
and darkest comer it gathered and glowed, hardening down 
into a shining core — a strange, shifty, luminous, but non- 
illuminating patch of radiance, bright itself and yet throw- 
ing no rays into the darkness. It had changed from a 
greenish-yellow to a dusky sullen red. Then round this 
center there coiled a dark, smoky substance, thickening, 
hardening, growing denser and blacker. And then the 
light went out, smothered in that which had grown round 
it. 

" It has gone.'* 

" Hush — there's something in the room." 

We heard it in the comer where the light had been, 
something which breathed deeply and fidgeted in the dark- 
ness. 

" What is it? Le Due, what have you done? " 

" It is all right. No harm will come.*' The Frenchman's 
voice was treble with agitation. 

" Good heavens, Moir, there's a large animal in the 
room. Here it is, close by my chair! Go away! Go 
away ! " 

It was Harvey Deacon's voice, and then came the sound 
of a blow upon some hard object. And then . • . And 
then . . . how can I tell you what happened then? 

Some huge thing hurtled against us in the darkness, rear- 



PLAYING WITH FIRE 141 

ing, stamping, smashing, springing, snorting. The table 
was splintered. We were scattered in every direction. It 
clattered and scrambled amongst us, rushing with horrible 
energy from one corner of the room to another. We were 
all screaming with fear, grovelling upon our hands and 
knees to get away from it. Something trod upon my left 
hand, and I felt the bones splinter under the weight. 

" A light ! A light ! " someone yelled. 

" Moir, you have matches, matches ! '' 

"No, I have none. Deacon, where are the matches.? 
For God's sake, the matches ! " 

" I can't find them. Here, you Frenchman, stop it ! " 

" It is beyond me. Oh, mon DieUy I cannot stop it. The 
door ! Where is the door ? " 

My hand, by good luck, lit upon the handle as I groped 
about in the darkness. The hard-breathing, snorting, rush- 
ing creature tore past me and butted with a fearful crash 
against the oaken partition. The instant that it had passed 
I turned the handle, and next moment we were all outside 
and the door shut behind us. From within came a horrible 
crashing and rending and stamping. 

" What is it.? In Heaven's name, what is it? " 

"A horse. I saw it when the door opened. But Mrs. 
Delamere — ? " 

" We must fetch her out. Come on, Markham ; the 
longer we wait the less we shall like it." 

He flung open the door and we rushed in. She was there 
on the ground amidst the splinters of her chair. We seized 
her and dragged her swiftly out, and as we gained the 
door I looked over my shoulder into the darkness. There 
were two strange eyes glowing at us, a rattle of hoofs, and 



142 PLAYING WITH FIRE 

I had just time to slam the door when there came a crash 
upon it which split it from top to bottom. 

" It's coming through ! It's coming ! " 

" Run, run for your lives ! " cried the Frenchman. 

Another crash, and something shot through the riven 
door. It was a long white spike, gleaming in the lamp- 
light. For a moment it shone before us, and then with a 
snap it disappeared again. 

" Quick ! Quick ! This way ! " Harvey Deacon shouted. 
" Carry her in ! Here ! Quick ! " 

We had taken refuge in the dining-room, and shut the 
heavy oak door. We laid the senseless woman upon the 
sofa, and as we did so, Moir, the hard man of business, 
drooped and fainted across the hearthrug. Harvey Deacon 
was as white as a corpse, jerking and twitching like an 
epileptic. With a crash we heard the studio door fly to 
pieces, and the snorting and stamping were in the passage, 
up and down, up and down, shaking the house with 
their fury. The Frenchman had sunk his face on his hands, 
and sobbed like a frightened child. 

" What shall we do? " I shook him roughly by the 
shoulder. " Is a gun any use? " 

" No, no. The power will pass. Then it will end." 

" You might have killed us all — you unspeakable fool 
— with your infernal experiments." 

" I did not know. How could I tell that it would be 
frightened? It is mad with terror. It was his fault. He 
struck it." 

Harvey Deacon sprang up. " Good heavens ! " he cried. 

A terrible scream sounded through the house. 



PLAYING WITH FIRE 143 

" It's my wife ! Here, I'm going out. If it's the Evil 
One himself I am going out ! " 

He had thrown open the door and rushed out into the 
passage. At the end of it, at; the foot of the stairs, Mrs. 
Deacon was lying senseless, struck down by the sight which 
she had seen. But there was nothing else. 

With eyes of horror we looked about us, but all was 
perfecly quiet and still. I approached the black square 
of the studio door, expecting with every slow step that 
some atrocious shape would hurl itself out of it. But 
nothing came, and all was silent inside the room. Peeping 
and peering, our hearts in our mouths, we came to the 
very threshold, and stared into the darkness. There was 
still no sound, but in one direction there was also no dark- 
ness. A luminous, glowing cloud, with an incandescent cen- 
ter, hovered in the comer of the room. Slowly it dimmed 
and faded, growing thinner and fainter, until at last the 
same dense, velvety blackness filled the whole studio. And 
with the last flickering gleam of that baleful light the 
Frenchman broke into a shout of joy. 

" What a fun ! " he cried. " No one is hurt, and only 
the door broken, and the ladies frightened. But, my 
friends, we have done what has never been done before." 

" And as far as I can help it," said Harvey Deacon, 
" it will certainly never be done again." 

And that was what befell on the 14th of April last 
at No. 17, Badderly Gardens. I began by saying that it 
would seem too grotesque to dogmatize as to what it was 
which actually did occur; but I give my impressions, our 
impressions (since they are corroborated by Harvey Deacon 



144 PLAYING WITH FIRE 

and John Moir), for what they are worth. You may if 
it pleases you imagine that we were the victims of an 
elaborate and extraordinary hoax. Or you may think with 
us that we imderwent a very real and a very terrible ex- 
perience. Or perhaps you may know more than we do of 
such occult matters, and can inform us of some similar 
occurrence. In this latter case a letter to William Mark- 
ham, 146m, The Albany, would help to throw a light upon 
that which is very dark to us. 



THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 

My particular friend Ward Mortimer was one of 
the best men of his day at everything connected 
with Oriental archaeology. He had written 
largely, upon the subject, he had lived two years in a 
tomb at Thebes, while he excavated in the Valley of the 
Kings, and finally he had created a considerable sensation 
by his exhumation of the alleged mummy of Cleopatra 
in the inner room of the Temple of Horus, at Philae. 
With such a record at the age of thirty-one, it was felt 
that a considerable career lay before him, and no one was 
surprised when he was elected to the curatorship of the 
Belmore Street Museum, which carries with it the lecture- 
ship at the Oriental College, and an income which has 
sunk with the fall in land, but which still remains at that 
ideal sum which is large enough to encourage an investi- 
gator, but not so large as to enervate him. 

There was only one reason which made Ward Morti- 
mer's position a little difficult at the Belmore Street Mu- 
seum, and that was the extreme eminence of the man whom 
he had to succeed. Professor Andreas was a profound 
scholar and aman^^gf ^European reputation. His lectures 
were frequented by students from every "parF of the world, 
and his admirable management of the collection intrusted 
to his care was a commonplace in all learned societies. 
There was, therefore^^ considerable surprise when, at the 

145 



146 THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 

age of fifty-five, he suddenly resigned his position and 
retired from those duties which had been both his liveli- 
hood and his pleasure. He and his daughter left the com- 
fortable suite of rooms which had formed his official res- 
idence in connection with the museum, and my friend, 
Mortimer, who was a bachelor, took up his quarters there. 

On hearing of Mortimer's appointment Professor An- 
dreas had written him a very kindly and flattering con- 
gratulatory letter. I was actually present at their first 
meeting, and I went with Mortimer round the museum 
when the Professor showed us the admirable collection 
which he had cherished so long. The Professor's beautiful 
daughter and a young man. Captain Wilson, who was,as 
I understood, soon to be her husband, accompanied us in 
our inspection. There were fifteen rooms, but the Baby- 
lonian, the Syrian, and the central hall, which contained 
the Jewish and Egyptian collection, were the finest of all. 
Professor Andreas was a quiet, dry, elderly man, with a 
clean-shaven face and an impassive manner, but his dark 
eyes sparkled and his features quickened into enthusiastic 
life as he pointed out to us the rarity and the beauty of 
some of his specimens. His hand lingered so fondly over 
them, that one could read his pride in them and the grief 
in his heart now that they were passing from his care 
into that of another. 

He had shown us in turn his mummies, his papyri, his 
rare scarabs, his inscriptions, his Jewish relics, and his 
duplication of the famous seven-branched candlestick of 
the Temple, which was brought to Rome by Titus, and 
which is supposed by some to be lying at this instant in 
the bed of the Tiber. Then he aproached a case which 



THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 147 

stood in the very center of the hall, and he looked down 
through the glass with reverence in his attitude and man- 
ner. 

" This is no novelty to an expert like yourself, Mr. 
Mortimer," said he ; " but I dare say that your friend Mr. 
Jackson will be interested to see it." 

Leaning over the case I saw an object, some five inches 
square, which consisted of twelve precious stones in a 
framework of gold, with golden hooks at two of the 
comers. The stones were all varying in sort and color, 
but they were of the same size. Their shapes, arrangement, 
and gradation of tint made me think of a box of water- 
color paints. Each stone had some hieroglyphic scratched 
upon its surface. 

" You have heard, Mr. Jackson, of the urim and thum- 
mim.? " 

I had heard the term, but my idea of its meaning was 
exceedingly vague. 

** The urim and thummim was a name given to the 
jeweled plate which lay upon the breast of the high priest 
of the Jews. They had a very special feeling of reverence 
for it — something of the feeling which an ancient Roman 
might have for the Sibylline books in the Capitol. There 
are, as you see, twelve magnificent stones, inscribed with 
mystical characters. Counting from the left-hand top 
corner, the stones are camelian, peridot, emerald, ruby, 
lapis lazuli, onyx, sapphire, agate, amethyst, topaz, beryl, 
and jasper." 

I waff amazed at the variety and beauty of the stones. 

** Has the breastplate any particular history? " I asked. 

** It is of great age and of immense value," said Pro- 



148 THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 

fessor Andreas. " Without being able to make an absolute 
assertion, we have many reasons to think that it is possible 
that it may be the original urim and thummim of Solo- 
mon's Temple. There is certainly nothing so fine in any. 
collection in Europe. My friend, Captain Wilson here, is 
a practical authority upon precious stones, and he would 
tell you how pure these are." 

Captain Wilson, a man with a dark, hard, incisive face, 
was standing beside his -fiancee at the other side of the case. 

" Yes," said he, curtly, " I have never seen finer stones." 

" And the gold-work is also worthy of attention. The 
ancients excelled in — " He was apparently about to in- 
dicate the setting of the stones, when Captain Wilson inter- 
rupted him. 

" You will see a finer example of their gold-work in this 
candlestick," said he, turning to another table, and we all 
joined him in his admiration of its embossed stem and 
delicately ornamented branches. Altogether it was an in- 
teresting and a novel experience to have objects of such 
rarity explained by so great an expert; and when, finally, 
Professor Andreas finished our inspection by formally 
handing over the precious collection to the care of my 
friend, I could not help pitying him and envying his 
successor whose life was to pass in so pleasant a duty. 
Within a week Ward Mortimer was duly installed in his 
new set of rooms, and had become the autocrat of the 
Belmore Street Museum. 

About a fortnight afterwards my friend gave a small 
dinner to half-a-dozen bachelor friends to celebrate his pro- 
motion. When his guests were departing he pulled my 
sleeve and signaled to me that he wished me to remain. 



THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 149 

" You have only a few hundred yards to go," said 
he — I was living in chambers in the Albany. " You may 
as well stay and have a quiet cigar with me. I very much 
want your advice." 

I relapsed into an armchair and lit one of his excellent 
Matronas. When he had returned from seeing the last of 
his guests out, he drew a letter from his dress- jacket and 
sat down opposite to me. 

" This is an anonymous letter which I received this 
morning," said he. " I want to read it to you and to have 
your advice." 

" You are very welcome to it for what it is worth." 

" This is how the note runs : * Sir, — I should strongly 
advise you to keep a very careful watch over the many 
valuable things which are committed to your charge. I do 
not think that the present system of a single watchman is 
sufficient. Be upon your guard, or an irreparable mis- 
fortune may occur." 

"Is that all?" 

" Yes, that is aU." 

** Well," said I, *' it is at least obvious that it was 
written by one of the limited number of poeple who are 
aware that you have only one watchman at night." 

Ward Mortimer handed me the note, with a curiousi smile. 
"Have you an eye for handwriting?" said he. "Now, 
look at this ! " He put another letter in front of me. 
" Look at the c in * congratulate ' and the c in * com- 
mitted.* Look at the capital 7. Look at the trick of 
putting in a dash instead of a stop ! " 

" They are undoubtedly from the same hand — with 
some attempt at disguise in the case of this first one." 



150 THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 

" The second," said Ward Mortimer, " is the letter of 
congratulation which was written to me by Professor An- 
dreas upon my obtaining my appointment." 

I stared at him in amazement. Then I turned over the 
letter in my hand, and there, sure enough, was " Martin 
Andreas " signed upon the other side. There could be no 
doubt, in the mind of any one who had the slightest knowl- 
edge of the science of graphology, that the Professor had 
written an anonymous letter warning his successor against 
thieves. It was inexplicable, but it was certain. 

"Why should he do it? " I asked. 

" Precisely what I should wish to ask you. If he had 
any such misgivings, why could he not come and tell 
me direct? " 

" Will you speak to him about it? " 

" There again I am in doubt. He might choose to deny 
that he wrote it." 

" At any rate," .said I, " this warning is meant in a 
friendly spirit, and I should certainly act upon it. Are 
the present precautions enough to insure you against rob- 
bery?" 

" I should have thought so. The public are only ad- 
mitted from ten till five, and there is a guardian to every 
two rooms. He stands at the door between them and so 
commands them both." 

"But at night?" 

" When the public are gone, we at once put up the 
great iron shutters, which are absolutely burglar-proof. 
The watchman is a capable fellow. He sits in the lodge, 
but he walks round every three hours. We keep one elec- 
tric light burning in each room all night." 



THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 151 

** It is difficult to suggest anything more — short of 
keeping your day watchers all night." 

" We could not afford that." 

"At least, I should communicate with the police, and 
have a special constable put on outside in Belmore Street," 
said I. ** As to the letter, if the writer wishes to be anonym- 
ous, I think he has a right to remain so. We must trust 
to the future to show some reason for the curious course 
which he has adopted." 

So we dismissed the subject, but all that night after 
my return to my chambers I was puzzling my brain as 
to what possible motive Professor Andreas could have 
for writing an anonymous warning letter to his successor — 
for that the writing was his was as certain to me as if 
I had seen him actually doing it. He foresaw some danger 
to the collection. Was it because he foresaw it that he 
abandoned his charge of it? But if so, why should he 
hesitate to warn Mortimer in his own name? I puzzled and 
puzzled until at last I fell into a troubled sleep, which 
carried me beyond my usual hour of rising. 

I was aroused in a singular and effective method, for 
about nine o'clock my friend Mortimer rushed into my 
room with an expression of consternation upon his face. 
He was usually one of the most tidy men of my acquaint- 
ance, but now his collar was undone at one end, his tie 
was flying, and his hat at the back of his head. I read 
his whole story in his frantic eyes. 

" The museum has been robbed ! " I cried, springing up 
in bed. 

" I fear so! Those jewels! The jewels of the urim and 
ihummim ! " he gasped, for he was out of breath with 



152 THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 

running. " I'm going on to the police-station. Come to 
the museum as soon as you can, Jackson ! Good-bye ! " 
He rushed distractedly out of the room, and I heard him 
clatter down the stairs. 

I was not long in following his directions, but I found 
when I arrived that he had already returned with a police 
inspector, and another elderly gentleman, who proved to 
be Mr. Purvis, one of the partners of Morson and Com- 
pany, the well-known diamond merchants. As an expert 
in stones he was always prepared to advise the jwlice. 
They were grouped round the case in which the breast- 
plate of the Jewish priest had been exposed. The plate 
had been taken out and laid upon the glass top of the 
case, and the three heads were bent over it. 

" It is obvious that it has' been tampered with," said 
Mortimer. " It caught my eye the moment that I passed 
through the room this morning. I examined it yesterday 
evening, so that it is certain that this has happened during 
the night.'» 

It was, as he had said, obvious that some one had been 
at work upon it. The settings of the uppermost row of 
four stones — the carnelian, peridot, emerald, and ruby — 
were rough and jagged as if someone had scraped all round 
them. The stones were in their places, but the beautiful 
gold-work which we had admired only a few days before 
had been very clumsily pulled about. 

" It looks to me," said the police inspector, ** as if some- 
one had been trying to take out the stones." 

" My fear is," said Mortimer, " that he not only tried, 
but succeeded. I believe these four stones to be skillful 



THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 158 

imitations which have been put in the place of the orig- 
inals." 

The same suspicion had evidently been in the mind of 
the expert, for he had been carefully examining the four 
stones with the aid of a lens. He now submitted them to 
several tests, and finally turned cheerfully to Mortimer. 

** I congratulate you, sir,'* said he, heartily. " I will 
pledge my reputation that all four of these stones are 
genuine, and of a most unusual degree of purity." 

The color began to come back to my poor friend's fright- 
ened face, and he drew a long breath of relief. 

" Thank God ! " he cried. " Then what in the world did 
the thief want? '* 

" Probably he meant to take the stones, but was inter-, 
rupteA" 

" In that case one would expect him to take them out 
one at a time, but the setting of each of these has been 
loosened, and yet the stones are all here." 

" It is certainly most extraordinary," said the inspector. 
" I never remember a case like it. Let us see the watch- 
man." 

The commissionaire was called — a soldierly, honest- 
faced man, who seemed as concerned as Ward Mortimer 
at the incident. 

" No, sir, I never heard a sound," he answered, in reply 
to the questions of the inspector. " I made my rounds 
four times, as usual, but I saw nothing suspicious. I've 
been in my position ten years, but nothing of the kind 
has ever occurred before." 

" No thief could have come through the windows? " 



164 THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 

" Impossible, sir." 

** Or passed you at the door? '' 

"No, sir; I never left my post except when I walked 
my rounds." 

" What other openings are there in the museum? " 

" There is the door into Mr. Ward Mortimer's private 
rooms." 

** That is locked at night," my friend explained, ** and 
in order to reach it anyone from the street would have to 
open the outside door as well." 

'* Your servants? " 

" Their quarters are entirely separate." 

" Well, well," said the inspector, " this is certainly very 
obscure. However, there has been no harm done, according 
to Mr. Purvis." 

** I will swear that those stones are genuine." 

" So that the case appears to be merely one of malicious 
damage. But none the less, I should be very glad to go 
carefully round the premises, and to see if we find any 
trace to show us who your visitor may have been." 

His investigation, which lasted all the morning, was 
careful and intelligent, but it led in the end to nothing. 
He pointed out to us that there were two possible en- 
trances to the museum which we had not considered. The 
one was from the cellars by a trap-door opening in the 
passage. The other through a skylight from the lumber- 
room, overlooking that very chamber to which the intruder 
had penetrated. As neither the cellar nor the lumber-room 
could be entered unless the thief was already within the 
locked doors, the matter was not of any practical impor- 
tance, and the dust of cellar and attic assured us that no 



THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 155 

one had used either one or the other. Finally, we ended 
as we began, without the slightest clue as to how, why, or 
by whom the setting of these four jewels had been tam- 
pered with. 

There remained one course for Mortimer to take, and 
he took it. Leaving the police to continue their fruitless 
researches, he asked me to accompany him that afternoon 
in a visit to Professor Andreas. He took with him the two 
letters, and it was his intention to openly tax his prede- 
cessor with having written the anonymous warning, and to 
ask him to explain the fact that he should have antici- 
pated so exactly that which had actually occurred. The 
Professor was living in a small villa in Upper Norwood, 
but we were informed by the servant that he was away 
from home. Seeing our disappointment, she asked us if 
we should like to see Miss Andreas, and showed us into the 
modest drawing-room. 

I have mentioned incidentally that the Professor's 
daughter was a very beautiful girl. She was a blonde, 
tall and graceful, with a skin of that delicate tint which 
the French call " mat," the color of old ivory or the lighter 
petals of the sulphur rose. I was shocked, however, as she 
entered the room to see how much she had changed in the 
last fortnight. Her young face was haggard and her 
bright eyes heavy with trouble. 

" Father has gone to Scotland," she said. " He seems 
to be tired, and has had a good deal to worry him. He 
only left us yesterday." 

" You look a little tired yourself. Miss Andreas," said 
my friend. 

** I have been so anxious about father." 



156 THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 

" Can you give me his Scotch address? " 

" Yes, he is with his brother, the Rev. David Andreas, 
1, Arran Villas, Ardrossan.'' ' 

Ward Mortimer made a note of the address, and we 
left without saying anything as to the object of our visit. 
We found ourselves in Belmore Street in the evening in 
exactly the same position in which we had been in the 
morning. Our only clue was the Professor's letter, and my 
friend had made up his mind to start for Ardrossan next 
day, and to get to the bottom of the anonymous letter, 
when a new development came to alter our plans. 

Very early on the following morning I was aroused 
from my sleep by a tap upon my bedroom door. It was 
a messenger with a note from Mortimer. 

" Do come round," it said ; " the matter is becoming 
more and more extraordinary." 

When I obeyed his summons I found him pacing ex- 
citedly up and down the central room, while the old soldier 
who guarded the premises stood with military stiffness in 
a comer. 

*' My dear Jackson," he cried, " I am so delighted that 
you have come, for this is a most inexplicable business." 

" What has happened, then? " 

He waved his hand towards the case which contained 
the breastplate. 

" Look at it," said he. 

I did so, and could not restrain a cry of surprise. The 
setting of the middle row of precious stones had been pro- 
faned in the same manner as the upper ones. Of the twelve 
jewels, eight had been now tampered with in this singular 



THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 157 

fashion. The setting of the lower four was neat and 
smooth. The others jagged and irregular. 

" Have the stones been altered ?" I asked. 

" No, I am certain that these upper four are the same 
which the expert pronounced to be genuine, for I observed 
yesterday that little discoloration on the edge of the emer- 
ald. Since they have not extracted the upper stones, there 
is no reason to think the lower have been transposed. You 
say that you heard nothing, Simpson ? '* 

" No, sir," the comissionaire answered. " But when I 
made my round after daylight I had a special look at these 
stones, and I saw at once that some one had been meddling 
with them. Then I called you, sir, and told you. I was 
backwards and forwards all the night, and I never saw a 
soul or heard a sound." 

** Come up and have some breakfast with me," said 
Mortimer, and he took me into his own chambers. 

** Now, what do you think of this, Jackson? " he asked. 

** It it the most objectless, futile, idiotic business that 
ever I heard of. It can only be the work of a monomaniac." 

" Can you put forward any theory .'^ " 

A curious idea came into my head. " This object is a 
Jewish relic of great antiquity and sanctity," said I. 
*'How about the anti-Semitic movement? Could one con- 
ceive that a fanatic of that way of thinking might dese- 
crate — ^" 

" No, no, no ! " cried Mortimer. " That will never do ! 
Such a man might push his lunacy to the length of de- 
stroying a Jewish relic, but why on earth should he 
nibble round every stone so carefully that he can only do 
four stones in a night? We must have a better solution 



168 THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 

than that, and we must find it for ourselves, for I do not 
think that our inspector is likely to help us. First of all, 
what do you think of Simpson, the porter? " 

*' Have you any reason to suspect him? " 

" Only that he is the one person on the premises." 

** But why should he indulge in such wanton destruc- 
tion? Nothing has been taken away. He has no motive." 

" Mania? " 

** No, I will swear to his sanity." 

"Have you any other theory?" 

** Well, yourself, for example. You are not a somnam- 
bulist, by any chance? " 

** Nothing of the sort, I assure you." 

" Then I give it up." 

** But I don't — and I have a plan by which we will 
make it all clear." 

" To visit Professor Andreas? " 

" No, we shall find our solution nearer than Scotland. 
I will tell you what we shall do. You know that skylight 
which overlooks the central hall? We will leave the electric 
lights in the hall, and we will keep watch in the lumber- 
room, you and I, and solve the mystery for ourselves. If 
our mysterious visitor is doing four stones at a time, he 
has four still to do, and there is every reason to think that 
he will return to-night and complete the job." 

"Excellent!" I cried. 

** We will keep our own secret, and say nothing either 
to the police or to Simpson. Will you join me? " 

" With the utmost pleasure," said I ; and so it was 
agreed. 

It was ten o'clock that night when I returned to the 



THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 169 

Belmore Street Museum. Mortimer was, as I could see, in 
a state of suppressed nervous excitement, but it was still 
too early to begin our vigil, so we remained for an hour 
or so in his chambers, discussing all the possibilities of 
the singular business which we hac met to solve. At last 
the roaring stream of hansom cabs and the rush of hurry- 
ing feet became lower and more intermittent as the pleas- 
ure-seekers passed on their way to their stations or their 
homes. It was nearly twelve when Mortimer led the way 
to the lumber-room which overlooked the central hall of 
the museum. 

He had visited it during the day, and had spread some 
sacking so that we could lie at our ease, and look straight 
down into the museum. The skylight was of unfrosted 
glass, but was so covered with dust that it would be im- 
possible for anyone looking up from below to detect that 
he was overlooked. We cleared a small piece at each comer, 
which gave us a complete view of the room beneath us. 
In the cold white light of the electric lamps everything 
stood out hard and clear, and I could see the smallest detail 
of the contents of the various cases. 

Such a vigil is an excellent lesson, since one has no 
choice but to look hard at those objects which we usually 
pass with such half-hearted interest. Through my little 
peep-hole I employed the hours in studying every speci- 
men, from the huge mummy-case which leaned against the 
wall to those very jewels which had brought us there, 
gleaming and sparkling in their glass case immediately 
beneath us. There was much precious gold-work and many 
valuable stones scattered through the numerous cases, but 
those wonderful twelve which made up the urim and thum- 



160 THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 

mim glowed and burned with a radiance which far eclipsed 
the others. I studied in turn the tomb-pictures of Sicara, 
the friezes from Kamak, the statues of Memphis, and the 
inscriptions of Thebes, but my eyes would always come 
back to that wonderful Jewish relic, and my mind to the 
singular mystery which surrounded it. I was lost in the 
thought of it when my companion suddenly drew his 
breath sharply in, and seized my arm in a convulsive grip. 
At the same instant I saw what it was which had excited 
him. 

I have said that against the wall — on the right-hand 
side of the doorway (the right-hand side as we looked at 
it, but the left as one entered) — there stood a large 
mummy-case. To our unutterable amazement it was slowly 
opening. Gradually, gradually the lid was swinging back, 
and the black slit which marked the opening was becoming 
wider and wider. So gently and carefully was it done that 
the movement was almost imperceptible. Then, as we 
breathlessly watched it, a white thin hand appeared at the 
opening, pushing back the painted lid, then another hand, 
and finally a face — a face which was familiar to us both, 
that of Professor Andreas. Stealthily he slunk out of the 
mummy-case, like a fox stealing from its burrow, his head 
turning incessantly to left and to right, stepping, then 
pausing, then stepping again, the very image of craft and 
of caution. Once some sound in the street struck him mo- 
tionless, and he stood listening with his ear turned, ready 
to dart back to the shelter behind him. Then he crept 
onwards again upon tiptoe, very, very softly and slowly, 
until he had reached the case in the center of the room. 
There he took a bunch of keys from his pocket, unlocked 



THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 161 

the case, took out the Jewish breastplate, and, laying it 
upon the glass in front of him, began to work upon it 
with some sort of small, glistening tool. He was so di- 
rectly underneath us that his bent head covered his work, 
but we could guess from the movement of his hand that 
he was engaged in finishing the strange disfigurement 
which he had begun. 

I could realize from the heavy breathing of my com- 
panion, and the twitchings of the hand which still clutched 
my wrist, the furious indignation which filled his heart as 
he saw this vandalism in the quarter of all others where 
he could least have expected it. He, the very man who a 
fortnight before had reverently bent over this unique relic, 
and who had impressed its antiquity and its sanctity upon 
us, was now engaged in this outrageous profanation. It 
was impossible, unthinkable — and yet there, in the white 
glare of the electric light beneath us, was that dark figure 
with the bent, grey head, and the twitching elbow. What 
inhuman hypocrisy, what hateful depth of malice against 
his successor must underlie these sinister nocturnal labors. 
It was painful to think of and dreadful to watch. Even 
I, who had none of the acute feelings of a virtuoso, could 
not bear to look on and see this deliberate mutilation of so 
ancient a relic. It was a relief to me when my companion 
tugged at my sleeve as a signal that I was to follow him 
as he softly crept out of the room. It was not until we 
were within his own quarters that he opened his lips, and 
then I saw by his agitated face how deep was his consterna- 
tion. 

" The abominable Goth ! " he cried. " Cou^l you have 
believed it? ** 



162 THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 

*' It IS amazing/' 

^ He is a villain or a lunatic — one or the other. We 
shall very soon see which. Come with me, Jackson, and we 
shall get to the bottom of this black business." 

A door opened out of the passage which was the private 
entrance from his rooms into the museum. This he opened 
softly with his key, having first kicked off his shoes, an 
example which I followed. We crept together through 
room after room, until the large hall lay before us, with 
that dark figure still stooping and working at the central 
case. With an advance as cautious as his own we closed fn 
upon him, but softly as we went we could not take him en- 
tirely unawares. We were still a dozen yards from him 
when he looked round with a start, and uttering a husky 
crjr^ of terror, ran frantically down the museum. 

" Simpson ! Simpson ! " roared Mortimer, and far away 
down the vista of electric lighted doors we saw the stiff 
figure of the old soldier suddenly appear. Professor An- 
dreas saw him also, and stopped running, with a gesture 
of despair. At the same instant we each laid a hand upon 
his shoulder. 

" Yes, yes, gentlemen," he panted, " I will come with 
you. To your room, Mr. Ward Mortimer, if you please! 
I feel that I owe you an explanation." 

My companion's indignation was so great that I could 
see that he dared not trust himself to reply. We walked on 
each side of the old Professor, the astonished commissionaire 
bringing up the rear. When we reached the violated case, 
Mortimer stopped and examined the breastplate. Already 
one of the stones of the lower row had had its setting turned 



THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 168 

back in the same manner as the others. My friend held it 
up and glanced furiously at his prisoner. 

" How could you ! " he cried. " How could you ! " 

" It is horrible — horrible ! " said the Professor. '* I 
don't wonder at your feelings. Take me to your room." 

" But this shall not be left exposed ! " cried Mortimer. 
He picked the breastplate up and carried it tenderly in his 
hand, while I walked beside the Professor, like a policeman 
with a malefactor. We passed into Mortimer's chambers, 
leaving the amazed old soldier to understand matters as 
best he could. The Professor sat down in Mortimer's arm- 
chair and turned so ghastly a color that for the instant all 
our resentment was changed to concern. A stiff glass of 
brandy brought the life back to him once more. 

" There, I am better now ! " said he. " These last few 
days have been too much for me. I am convinced that I 
could not stand it any longer. It is a nightmare — a hor- 
rible nightmare — that I should be arrested as a bur- 
glar in what has been for so long my own museum. And 
jret I cannot blame you. You could not have done otherwise. 
iHy hope always was that I should get it all over before I 
was detected. This would have been my last night's work. 

'* How did you get in? " asked Mortimer. 

" By taking a very great liberty with your private 
door. But the object justified it. The object justified every- 
thing. You will not be angry when you know everything — 
at least, you will not be angry with me. I had a key to 
your side door and also to the museum door. I did not give 
them up when I left. And so you see it was not difficult 
for me to let myself into the museum. I used to come in 



164 THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 

early before the crowd had cleared from the street. Then I 
hid myself in the mummy-case, and took refuge there when- 
ever Simpson came round. I could always hear him coming. 
I used to leave in the same way as I came." 

** You ran a risk.'* 

« i had to.'' 

"But why? What on earth was your object — you to 
do a thing like that ! " Mortimer pointed reproachfully at 
the plate which lay before him on the table. 

" I could devise no other means. I thought and thought, 
but there was no alternative except a hideous public scandal, 
and a private sorrow which would have clouded our lives. 
I acted for the best, incredible as it may seem to you, and I 
only ask your attention to enable me to prove it." 

*' I will hear what you have to say before I take any 
further steps," said Mortimer, grimly. 

" I am determined to hold back nothing, and to take you 
both completely into my confidence. I will have it to your 
own generosity how far you will use the facts with which I 
supply you." 

" We have the essential facts already." 

" And yet you understand nothing. Let me go back to 
what passed a few weeks ago, and I will make it all clear to 
you. Believe me that what I say is the absolute and exact 
truth. 

" You have met the person who calls himself Captain 
Wilson. I say * calls himself ' because I have reason now to 
believe that it is not his correct name. It would take me too 
long if I were to describe all the means by which he ob- 
tained an introduction to me and ingratiated himself into 
my friendship and the affection of my daughter. He 



THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 165 

brought letters from foreign colleagues which compelled 
me to show him some attention. And then, by his own at- 
tainments, which are considerable, he succeeded in making 
himself a very welcome visitor at my rooms. When I 
learned that my daughter's affections had been gained by 
him, I may have thought it premature, but I certainly was 
not surprised, for he had a charm of manner and of con- 
versation which would have made him conspicuous in any 
society. 

" He was much interested in Oriental antiquities, and his 
knowledge of the subject justified his interest. Often when 
he spent the evening with us he would ask permission to 
go down into the museum and have an opportunity of 
privately inspecting the various specimens. You can 
imagine that I, as enthusiast, was in sympathy with such 
a request, and that I felt no surprise at the constancy of his 
visits. After his actual engagement to Elise there was 
hardly an evening which he did not pass with us, and an 
hour or two were generally devoted to the museum. He had 
the free run of the place, and when I have been away for 
the evening I had no objection to his doing whatever he 
wished here. This state of things was only terminated by 
the fact of my resignation of my official duties and my re- 
tirement to Norwood, where I hoped to have the leisure to 
write a considerable work which I had planned. 

" It was immediately after this — within a week or so — 
that I first realized the true nature and character of the 
man whom I had so imprudently introduced into my family. 
This discovery came to me through letters from my friends 
abroad, which showed me that his introductions to me had 
been forgeries. Aghast at the revelation, I asked myself 



166 THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 

what motive this man could originally have had in prac- 
ticing this elaborate deception upon me. I was too poor a 
man for any f orune-hunter to have marked me down. Why, 
then, had he come? I remembered that some of the most 
precious gems in Europe had been under my charge, and I 
remembered also the ingenious excuses by which this man 
had made himself familiar with the cases in which they were 
kept. He was a rascal who was planning some gigantic rob- 
bery. How could I, without striking my own daughter, 
who was infatuated about him, prevent him from carrying 
out any plan which he might have formed? My device was 
a clumsy one, and yet I could think of nothing more effec- 
tive. If I had written a letter under my own name, you 
would naturally have turned to me for details which I did 
wish to give. I resorted to an anonymous letter begging 
you to be upon your guard. 

" I may tell you that my change from Belmore Street 
to Norwood had not affected the visits of this man, who 
had, I believe, a real and overpowering affection for my 
daughter. As to her, I could not have believed that any 
woman could be so completely under the influence of a man 
as she was. His stronger nature seemed to entirely domi- 
nate her. I had not realized how far this was the case, or 
the extent of the confidence which existed between them un- 
til that very evening when his true character for the first 
time was made clear to me. I had given orders that when hie 
called he should be shown into my study instead of to the 
drawing-room. There I told him bluntly that I knew all 
about him, that I had taken steps to defeat his designs, and 
that neither I nor my daughter desired ever to see him 
again. I added that I thanked God that I had found him 



THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 167 

out before he had time to harm those precious objects which 
it had been the work of my lifetime to protect. 

** He was certainly a man of iron nerve. He took my re- 
marks without a sign of either of surprise or of defiance, 
but listened gravely and attentively until I had finished. 
Then he walked across the room without a word and struck 
the bell. 

" * Ask Miss Andreas to be so kind as to step this way,' 
said he to the servant. 

" My daughter entered, and the man closed the door be- 
hind her. Then he took her hand in his, 

" * Elise,' said he, * your father has just discovered that 
I am a villain. He knows now what you knew before.' 

" She stood in silence, listening. 

** * He says that we are to part forever,' said he. 

** She did not withdraw her hand. 

" * Will .you be true to me, or will you remove the last 
good influence which is ever likely to come into my life? ' 

** * John,' she cried, passionately, * I will never abandon 
you! Never, never, not if the whole world were against 
you.' 

"I n vain I argued and pleaded with her. It was abso- 
lutelyjosfilegs. Her whole life was bound up in this man be- 
fore me. My daughter, gentlemen, is all that I have left to 
love, and it filled me with agony when I saw how powerless 
I was to save her from her ruin. My helplessness seemed to 
touch this man who was the cause of my trouble. 

** *It may not be as bad as you think, sir,' said he, in his 
quiet, inflexible way. *I love Elise with a love which is 
strong enough to rescue even one who has such a record, as 
I have. It was but yesterday that I promised her that never 



168 THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 

again in my whole life would I do a thing of which she 
should be ashamed. I have made up mj mind to it, and 
never yet did I make up my mind to a thing which I did 
not do.* 

" He spoke with an air which carried conviction with it. 
As he concluded he put his hand into his pocket and he 
drew out a small cardboard box. 

** * I am about to give you a proof of my determination,' 
said he. * This, Elise, shall be the first-fruits of your re- 
deeming influence over me. You are right, sir, in thinking 
that I had designs upon the jewels in your possession. Such 
ventures have had a charm for me, which depended as much 
upon the risk run as upon the value of the prize. Those 
famous antique stones of the Jewish priest were a challenge 
to my daring and ingenuity. I determined to get them.* 

** * I guessed as much.' 

" * There was only one thing that you did not guess.' 

"* And what is that?' 

" * That I got them. They are in this box.' 

" He opened the box, and tilted out the contents upon the 
comer of my desk. My hair rose and my flesh grew cold as 
I looked. There were twelve magnificent square stones en- 
graved with mystical characters. There could be no doubt 
that they were the jewels of the urim and thummim. 

" * Good God ! ' I cried. * How have you escaped dis- 
covery ? ' 

" By the substitution of twelve others, mftdf- especially to 
my ord^Xf in which the originals are so carefully imitated 
that I defy the eye to detect the difference.' 

** * Then the present stones are false? ' I cried. 

** * They have been for some weeks.' 



THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 169 

" We all stood in silence, my daughter white with 
emotion, but still h ol ding this ma n bx.the Jiand^ 

" * You see what I am capable of, Elise,' said he. 

" ^ I see that you are capable of repentance and restitu- 
tion,' she answered. 

*' * Yes, thanks to your influence ! I leave the stones in 
your hands, sir. Do what you like about it. But remember 
that whatever you do against me, is done against the future 
husband of your only daughter. You will hear from me 
soon again, Elise. It is the last time that I will ever cause 
pain to your tender heart,' and with these words he left both 
the room and the house. 

" My position was a dreadful one. Here I was with these 
precious relics in my possession, and how could I return 
them without a scandal and an exposure? I knew the depth 
of my daughter's nature too well to suppose that I would 
ever be able to detach her from this man now that she had 
entirely given him her heart. I was not even sure how far 
it was right to detach her if she had such an ameliorating 
influence over him. How could I expose him without in- 
juring her — and how far was I justified in exposing him 
when he had voluntarily put himself into my power? I 
thought and thought, until at last I formed a resolution 
which may seem to you to be a foolish one, and yet, if I 
had to do it again, I believe it would be the best course 
open to me. 

" My idea was to return the stones without anyone be- 
ing the wiser. With my keys I could get into the museum 
at any time, and I was confident that I could avoid Simp- 
son, whose hours and methods were familiar to me. I de- 
termined to take no one into my confidence - — not even my 



170 THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 

daughter — whom I told that I was about to visit my 
brother in Scotland. I wanted a free hand for a few nights, 
without inquiry as to my comings and goings. To this end 
I took a room in Harding Street that very night, with an 
intimation that I was a Pressman, and that I should keep 
very late hours. 

" That night I made my way into the museum, and I 
replaced four of the stones. It was hard work, and took me 
all night. When Simpson came round I always heard his 
footsteps, and concealed myself in the mummy-case. I had 
some knowledge of gold-work, but was far less skillful than 
the thief had been. He had replaced the setting so exactly 
that I defy anyone to see the difference. My work was rude 
and clumsy. However, I hoped that the plate might not 
be carefully examined, or the roughness of the setting ob- 
served until my task was done. Next night I replaced four 
more stones. And to-night I should have finished my task 
had it not been for the unfortunate circumstance which has 
caused me to reveal so much which I should have wished to 
keep concealed. I appeal to you, gentlemen, to your sense 
of honor and of compassion, whether what I have told you 
should go any further or not. My own happiness, my 
daughter's future, the hopes of this man's regeneration, all 
depend upon your decision." 

" Which is," said my friend, ** that all is well that ends 
well, and that the whole matter ends here and at once. To- 
morrow the loose settings shall be tightened by an expert 
goldsmith, tod so passes the greatest danger to which, 
since the destruction of the Temple, the urim and thummim 
have been exposed. Here is my hand. Professor Andreas, 
and I can only hope that under such difQcult circumstances 



THE JEW'S BREASTPLATE 171 

I should have carried myself as unselfishly and as well." 
Just one footnote to this narrative. Within a month 
Elise Andreas was married to a man whose name, had I 
the indiscretion to mention ,it, would appeal to my. 
readers as one who is now widely and deservedly honored. 
But if the truth were known, that honor is due not to him 
but to the gentle girl who plucked him back when he had 
gone so far down that dark road along which few return. 



THE LOST SPECIAL 

TIE confession of Herbert de Lemac, now lying 
under sentence of death at Marseilles, has thrown 
light upon one of the most inexplicable crimes 
of the century — an incident which is, I believe, absolutely 
unprecedented in the criminal annals of any country. Al- 
though there is a reluctance to discuss the matter in official 
circles, and little information has been given to the Press, 
there are still indications that the statement of this arch- 
criminal is corroborated by the facts, and that we have at 
last found a solution for a most astounding business. As 
the matter is eight years old, and as its importance was 
somewhat obscured by a poTitTcal crisis which was engaging 
the public attention at the time, it may be as well to state 
the facts as far as we have been able to ascertain them. 
They are collated from the Liverpool papers of that date, 
from the proceedings at the inquest upon John Slater, the 
engine-driver, and from the records of the London and 
West Coast Railway Company, which have been courteously 
put at my disposal. Briefly, they are as follows : 

On the 8rd of June, 1 890^ a gentleman who gave his 
name as Monsieur Louis Caratal desired an interview with 
Mr. James Bland, the superintendent of the London and 
West Coast Central Station in Liverpool. He was a small 
man, middle-aged and dark, with a stoop which was so 
marked that it suggested some deformity of the spine. He 

172 



THE LOST SPECIAL 178 

was accompanied by a friend, a man of imposing physique, 
whose deferential manner and constant attention showed 
that his position was one of dependence. This friend or 
companion, whose name did not transpire, was certainly 
a foreigner, and probably, from his swarthy complexion, 
either a Spaniard or a South American. One peculiarity 
was observed in him. He carried in his left hand a small 
black leather dispatch-box, and it was noticed by a sharp- 
eyed clerk in the central office that this box was fastened 
to his wrist by a strap. No importance was attached to the 
fact at the time, but subsequent events endowed it with 
some significance. Monsieur Caratal was shown up to Mr. 
Bland's office, while his companion remained outside. 

Monsieur CarataPs business was quickly dispatched. He 
had arrived that afternoon from Central America. Affairs 
of the utmost importance demanded that he should be in 
Paris without the loss of an unnecessary hour. He had 
missed the London express. A special must be provided. 
Money was of no importance. Time was everything. If the 
company would speed him on his way, they might make 
their own terms. 

Mr. Bland struck the electric bell, summoned Mr. Potter 
Hood, the traffic manager, and had the matter arranged in 
five minutes. The train would start in three-quarters of an 
hour. It would take that time to insure that the line should 
be clear. The powerful engine called Rochdale (No. 247 
on the company's register) was attached to two carriages, 
with a guard's van behind. The first carriage was solely 
for the purpose of decreasing the inconvenience arising 
from the oscillation. The second was divided, as usual, into 
four compartments, a first-class, a first-class smoking, a 



174 THE LOST SPECIAL 

second-class, and a second-class smoking. The first compart- 
ment, which was nearest to the engine, was the one allotted 
to the travelers. The other three were empty. The guard of 
the special train was James McPherson, who had been some 
years in the service of the company. The stoker, William 
Smith, was a new hand. 

Monsieur Caratal, upon leaving the superintendent's 
office, rejoined his companion, and both of them manifested 
extreme impatience to be off. Having paid the money asked, 
which amounted to fifty pounds five shDlings, at the usual 
special rate of five shillings a mile, they demanded to be 
shown the carriage, and at once took their seats in it, al- 
though they were assured that the better part of an hour 
must elapse before the line could be cleared. In the mean- 
time a singular coincidence had occurred in the office which 
Monsieur Caratal had just quitted. 

A request for a special is not very uncommon circum- 
stance in a rich commercial center, but that two should be 
required upon the same afternoon was most unusual. It so 
happened, however, that Mr. Bland had hardly dismissed 
the first traveler before a second entered with a similar re- 
quest. This was a Mr. Horace Moore, a gentlemanly man 
of military appearance, who alleged that the sudden serious 
illness of his wife in London made it absolutely imperative 
that he should not lose an instant in starting upon the 
journey. His distress and axiety were so evident that Mr- 
Bland did all that was possible to meet his wishes. A second 
special was out of the question, as the ordinary local service 
was already somewhat deranged by the first. There was 
the alternative, however, that Mr. Moore should share the 
expense of Monsieur CarataPs train, and should travel in 



THE LOST SPECIAL 176 

the other empty first-class compartment, if Monsieur Car- 
atal objected to having him in the one which he occupied. 
It was difficult to see any objection to such an arrangement, 
and yet Monsieur Caratal, upon the suggestion being made 
to him by Mr. Potter Hood, absolutely refused to consider 
it for an instant. The train was his, he said, and he would 
insist upon the exclusive use of it. All argument failed to 
overcome his ungracious objections, and finally the plan 
had to be abandoned. Mr. Horace Moore left the station 
in great distress, after learning that his only course was to 
take the ordinary slow train which leaves Liverpool at six 
o'clock. At four thirty-one exactly by the station clock 
the special train containing the crippled Monsieur Caratal 
and his gigantic companion steamed out of the Liverpool 
station. The line was at that time clear, and there should 
have been no stoppage before Manchester. 

The trains of the London and West Coast Railway run 
over the lines of another company as far as this town, 
which should have been reached by the special rather be- 
fore six o'clock. At a quarter after six considerable sur- 
prise and some consternation were caused amongst the 
officials at Liverpool by the receipt of a telegram from 
Manchester to say that it had not yet arrived. An inquiry 
directed to St. Helens, which is a third of the way between 
the two cities, elicited the following reply: — 

" To James Bland, Superintendent, Central L. & W. C, 
Liverpool : Special passed here at 4 :62, well up to time. — 
Dowser, St. Helens." 

This telegram was received at 6:40. At 6:50 a second 
message was received from Manchester: — 

" No sign of special as advised by you." 



176 THE LOST SPECIAL 

And then ten minutes later a third, more bewildering : — 
** Presume some mistake as to proposed running of 
special. Local train from St. Helens timed to follow it has 
just arrived and has seen nothing of it. Kindly wire ad- 
vices. — Manchester." 

The matter was assuming a most amazing aspect, al- 
though in some respects the last telegram was a relief to 
the authorities at Liverpool. If an accident had occurred 
to the special, it seemed hardly possible that the local train 
could have passed down the same line without observing it. 
And yet, what was the alternative? Where could the train 
be? Had it possibly been side-tracked for some reason in 
order to allow the slower train to go past? Such an ex- 
planation was possible if some small repair had to be 
effected. A telegram was dispatched to each of the stations 
between St. Helens and Manchester, and the superintendent 
and traffic manager waited in the utmost suspense at the in- 
strument for the series of replies which would enable them 
to say for certain what had become of the missing train. 
The answers came back in the order of questions, which was 
the order of the stations beginning at the St. Helens 
end: — 

" Special passed here 6 o'clock. — Collins Green.'* 
" Special passed here 6 past 5. — Earlestown." 
" Special passed here 6 :10. — Newton." 
" Special passed here 6 :20. — Kenyon Junction." 
" No special train has passed her-^ — Barton Moss." 
The two officials stared at each other in amazement. 
" This is unique in my thirty years of experience," said 
Mr, Bland. 

"Absolutely unprecedented and inexplicable, sir. The 



THE LOST SPECIAL 177 

special has gone wrong between Kenyon Junction and 
Barton Moss." 

" And yet there is no siding, so far as my memory serves 
me, between the two stations. The special must have run 
off the metals.'' 

" But how could the four-fifty parliamentary pass over 
the same line without observing it? *' 

"There's no alternative, Mr. Hood. It must be so. 
Possibly the local train may have observed something which 
may throw some light upon the matter. We will wire to 
Manchester for more information, and to Kenyon Junc- 
tion with instructions that the line be examined instantly 
as far as Barton Moss." 

The answer from Manchester came within a few minutes. 

" No news of missing special. Driver and guard of slow 
train positive no accident between Kenyon Junction and 
Barton Moss. Line quite clear, and no sign of anything 
unusual. — Manchester." 

" That driver and guard will have to go," said Mr. 
Bland, grimly. " There has been a wreck and they have 
missed it. The special has obviously run off the metals with- 
out disturbing the line — how it could have done so passes 
my comprehension — but so it must be, and we shall have a 
wire from Kenyon or Barton Moss presently to say that 
they have found her at the bottom of an embankment." 

But Mr. Bland's prophecy was not destined to be ful- 
filled. Half an hour passed, and then there arrived the fol- 
lowing message from the station-master of Kenyon Junc- 
tion : — 

*' There are no traces of the missing special. It is quite 
certain that she passed here, and that she did not arrive at 



178 THE LOST SPECIAL 

Barton Moss. We have detached engine from goods train, 
and I have myself ridden down the line, but all is clear, and 
there is no sign of any accident.*' 

Mr. Bland tore his hair in his perplexity. 

** This is rank lunacy, Hood ! " he cried. *' Does a train 
vanish into thin air in England in broad daylight? The 
thing is ^preposterous. An engine, a tender, two carriages, 
a van, five human beings — and all lost on a straight line 
of railway! Unless we get something positive within the 
next hour I'll take Inspector Collins and go down my- 
self." 

And then at last something positive did occur. It took 
the shape of another telegram from Kenyon Junction. 

" Regret to report that the dead body of John Slater, 
driver of the special train, has just been found among the 
gorse bushes at a point two and a quarter miles from the 
Junction. Had fallen from his engine, pitched down the 
embankment, and rolled among bushes. Injuries to his 
head, from the fall, appear to be cause of death. Ground 
has now been carefully examined, and there is no trace of 
the missing train." 

The country was, as has already been stated, in the 
throes of a political crisis, and the attention of the public 
was further distracted by the important and sensational 
developments in Paris, where a huge scandal threatened to 
destroy the Government and to wreck the reputations of 
many of the leading men in France. The papers were full 
of these events, and the singular disappearance of the 
special train attracted less attention than would have been 
the case in more peaceful times. The grotesque nature of 
the event helped to detract from its importance, for the 



THE LOST SPECIAL 179 

papers were disinclined to believe the facts as reported to 
them. More than one of the London journals treated the 
matter as an ingenious hoax, until the coroner's inquest 
upon the unfortunate driver (an inquest which elicited 
nothing of importance) convinced them of the tragedy of 
the incident. 

Mr. Bland, accompanied by Inspector Collins, the senior 
detective officer in the service of the company, went down 
to Kenyon Junction the same evening, and their Research- 
lasted throughout the following day, but was attended 
with purely negative results. Not only was no trace found 
of the missing train, but no conjecture could be put for- 
ward which could possibly explain the facts. At the same 
time. Inspector Collins's official report (which lies before 
me as I write) served to show that the possibilities were 
more numerous than might have been expected. 

" In the stretch of railway between these two points," 
said he, "the country is dotted with ironworks and col- 
lieries. Of these, some are being worked and some have been 
abandoned. There are no fewer than twelve which have 
small gauge lines which run trolley-cars down to the main 
line. These can, of course, be disregarded. Besides these, 
however, there are seven which have or have had proper 
lines running down and connecting with points to the main 
line, so as to convey their produce from the mouth of the 
mine to the great centers of distribution. In every case these 
lines are only a few miles in length. Out of the seven, four 
belong to collieries which are worked out, or at least to 
shafts which are no longer used. These are the Redgaunt- 
let. Hero, Slough of Despond, and Heartease mines, the 
latter having ten years ago been one of the principle mines 



180 THE LOST SPECIAL 

in Lancashire. These four side lines may be eliminated from 
our inquiry, for, to prevent possible accidents, the rails 
nearest to the main line have been taken up, and there is no 
longer any connection. There remains three other side lines 
leading — 

(a) To the Camstock Iron Works; 

(6) To the Big Ben Colliery; 

(c) To the Perseverance Colliery. 

Of these the Big Ben line is not more than a quarter of 
a mile long, and ends at a dead wall of coal waiting re- 
moval from the mouth of the mine. Nothing had been seen 
or heard there of any special. The Camstock Iron Works 
line was blocked all day upon the 8rd of June by sixteen 
truckloads of hematite. It is a single line, and nothing 
could have passed. As to the Perseverance line, it is a large 
double line, which does a considerable traffic, for the out- 
put of the mine is very large. On the Srd of June this 
traffic proceeded as usual; hundreds of men, including a 
gang of railway platelayers, were working along the two 
miles and a quarter which constitute the total length of 
the line, and it is inconceivable that an unexpected train 
could have come down there without attracting universal 
attention. It may be remarked in conclusion that this 
branch line is nearer to St, Helens than the point at which 
the engine-driver was discovered, so that we have every 
reason to believe that the train was past that point before 
misfortune overtook her. 

" As to John Slater, there is no clue to be gathered from 
his appearance or injuries. We can only say that, so far 
as we can see, he met his end by falling off his engine, 
though why he fell, or what became of the engine after his 



THE LOST SPECIAL 181 

fall, IS a question upon which I do not feel qualified to 
offer an opinion." In conclusion, the inspector offered his 
resignation to the Board,'being much nettled by an accusa- 
tion of incompetence in the London papers. 

A month elapsed, during which both the police and the 
company prosecuted their inquiries ^without ..tb^ slightest 
.success. A reward was offered and a pardon promised in 
case of crime, but they were both unclaimed. Every day the 
public opened their papers with the conviction that so 
grotesque a mystery would at last be solved, but week after 
week passed by, and a solution remained as far off as ever. 
In broad daylight, upon a June afternoon in the most 
thickly inhabited portion of England, a train with its oc- 
cupants had disappeared as completely as if some master 
of subtle chemistry had volatilized it into gas. Indeed, 
among the various conjectures which were put forward in 
the public Press there were some which seriously asserted 
that supernatural, or, at least, preternatural, agencies had 
been at work, and that the deformed Monsieur Caratal was 
probably a person who was better known under a less politg 
name. Others fixed upon his swarthy companion as being 
the author of the mischief, but what it was exactly 
which he had done could never be clearly formulated in 
words. 

Amongst the many suggestions put forward by various 
newspapers or private individuals, there were one or two 
which were feasible en ough to attract the attention of the 
public. One which appeared in the TimeSy over the signa- 
ture of an amateur reasoner of some celebrity at that date, 
attempted to deal with the matter in a critical and semi- 
scientific manner. An extract must suffice, although the 



v\. 



18a THE LOST SPECIAL 

curious can see the whole letter in the issue of the 8rd of 
July. 

" It 18 one of the elementary principles of practical rea- 
soning," he remarked, ^' that when the impossible has been 
eliminated the residuum, however improbable^ must contain 
the truth. It is certain that the train left Kenyon Junction. 
It is certain that it did not reach Barton Moss. It is in the 
highest degree unlikely, but still possible, that it may have 
taken one of the seven available side lines. It is obviously 
impossible for a train to run where there are no rails, and 
therefore we may reduce our improbables to the three open 
lines, namely, the Camstock Iron Works, the Big Ben, and 
the Perseverance. Is there a secret society of colliers, an 
English camorra^ which is capable of destroying both train 
and passengers ? It is improbable, but it is not impossible. I 
confess that I am unable to suggest any other solution. I 
should certainly advise the company to direct all their 
energies towards the observation of those three lines, and 
of the workmen at the end of them. A careful supervision of 
the pawnbrokers' shops of the district might possibly bring 
some suggestive facts to light." 

The suggestion, coming from a recognized authority 
upon such matters, created considerable interest, and a fierce 
opposition from those who considered such a statement to 
be a preposterous libel upon an honest and deserving set of 
men. The only answer to this criticism was a challenge to 
the objectors to lay any more feasible explanation before 
the public. In reply to this two others were forthcoming 
(TimeSy July 7th and 9th). The first suggested that the 
train might have run off the metals and be lying sub- 
merged in the Lancashire and Staffordshire Canal, which 



THE LOST SPECIAL 183 

runs parallel to the railway for some hundreds of yards. 
This suggestion was thrown out of court by the published 
depth of the canal, which was entirely insufficient to conceal 
so large an object. The second correspondent wrote calling 
attention to the bag which appeared to be the sole luggage 
which the travelers had brought with them, and suggest- 
ing that some novel explosive of immense and pulverizing 
power might have been concealed in it. The obvious ab- 
surdity, however, of supposing that the whole train might 
be blown to dust while the metals remained uninjured re- 
duced any such explanation to a farce. The investigation 
had drifted into this hopeless position when a new and most 
unexpected incident occurred. 

This was nothing less than the receipt by Mrs. McPher- 
son of a letter from her husband, James McPherson, who 
had been the guard of the missing train. The letter, which 
was dated July 6th, 1890, was posted from New York, and 
came to hand upon July 14th. Some doubts were expressed 
as to its genuine character, but Mrs. McPherson was posi- 
tive as to the writing, arid the fact that it contained a re- 
mittance of a hundred dollars in five-dollar notes was 
enough in itself to discount the idea of a hoax. No address 
was given in the letter, which ran in this way : — 

" My deae Wife, — 

" I have been thinking a great deal, and I find it 
very hard to give you up. The same with Lizzie. I try to 
fight against it, but it will always come back to me. I send 
you some money which will change into twenty English 
pounds. This should be enough to bring both Lizzie and 
you across the Atlantic, and you will find the Hamburg 



184 THE LOST SPECIAL 

boats which stop at Southampton very good boats, and 
cheaper than Liverpool. If you could come here and stop 
at the Johnston House I would try and send you word how 
to meet, but things are very difficult with me at present, 
and I am not very happy, finding it hard to give you both 
up. So no more at present, from your loving husband, 

" James McPherson." 

For a time it was confidently anticipated that this letter 
would lead to the clearing up of the whole matter, the more 
so as it was ascertained that a passenger who bore a close 
resemblance to the missing guard had traveled from South- 
ampton under the name of Summers in the Hamburg and 
New York liner Vistula, which started upon the 7th of 
June. Mrs. McPherson and her sister Lizzie Dolton went 
across to New York as directed, and stayed for three weeks 
at the Johnston House, without hearing anything from the 
missing man. It is probable that some injudicious com- 
ments in the Press may have warned him that the police 
were using them as a bait. However this may be, it is cer- 
tain that he neither wrote nor came, and the women were 
eventually compelled to return to Liverpool. 

And so the matter stood, and has continued to stand up 
to the present year of 1898. Incredible as it may seem, 
nothing has transpired during these eight years which has 
shed the least light upon the extraordinary disappearance 
of the special train which contained Monsieur Caratal and 
his companion. Careful inquiries into the antecedents of 
the two travelers have only establkhed the fact that Mon- 
sieur Caratal was well known as a financier and political 
agent in Central America, and that during his voyage to 



THE LOST SPECIAL 185 

Europe he had betrayed extraordinary anxiety to reach 
Paris. His companion, whose name was entered upon the 
passenger lists as Eduardo Gomez, was a man whose record 
was a violent one, and whose reputation was that of a bravo 
and a bully. There was evidence to show, however, that he 
was honestly devoted to the interests of Monsieur Caratal, 
and that the latter, being a man of puny physique, em- 
ployed the other as a guard and protector. It may be added 
that no information came from Paris as to what the objects 
of Monsieur CarataPs hurried journey may have been. This 
comprises all the facts of the case up to the publication in 
the Marseilles papers of the recent confession of Herbert 
de Lemac, now under sentence of death for the murder of 
a merchant named Bonvalot. This^tatement may be lit- 
erally translated as follows : — ^ 

" It is not out of mere pride or boasting that I give this • 
information, for, if that were my object, I could tell a 
dozen actions of mine which are quite as splendid; but I 
do it in order that certain gentlemen in Paris may under- 
stand that I, who am able here to tell about the fate of 
Monsieur Caratal, can also tell in whose interest and at 
whose request the deed was done, unless the reprieve which 
I am awaiting comes to me very quickly. Take warning. 
Messieurs, before it is too late! You know Herbert de 
Lemac, and you are aware that his deeds are as ready as 
his words. Hasten then, or you are lost ! 

" At present I shall mention no names — if you only, 
heard the names, what would you not think ! — but I shall 
merely tell you how cleverly I did it. I was true to my em- 
ployers then, and no doubt they will be true to me now. 
I hope so, and until I am convinced that they have betrayed 



186 THE LOST SPECIAL 

me, these names, which would convulse Europe, shall 
not be divulged. But on that day . . . well, I say no 
more! 

'* In a word, then, there was a famous trial in Paris, in 
the year 1890, in connection with a monstrous scandal in 
politics and finance. How monstrous that scandal was can 
never be known save by such confidential agents as myself. 
The honor and careers of many of the chief men in France 
were at stake. You have seen a group of nine-pins stand- 
ing, all so rigid, and prim, and unbending. Then there 
comes the ball from far away and pop, pop, pop — there 
are your nine-pins on the floor. Well, imagine some of the 
greatest men in France as these nine-pins, and then this 
Monsieur Caratal was the ball which could be seen coming 
from far away. If he arrived, then it was pop, pop, pop 
for all of them. It was determined that he should not ar- 
rive. 

** I do not accuse them all of being conscious of what 
was to happen. There were, as I have said, great financial 
as well as political interests at stake, and a syndicate was 
formed to manage the business. Some subscribed to the 
syndicate who hardly understood what were its objects. 
But others understood very well, and they can rely upon it 
that I have not forgotten their names. They had ample 
warning that Monsieur Caratal was coming long before he 
left South America, and they knew that the evidence which 
he held would certainly mean ruin to all of them. The syn- 
dicate had the command of an unlimited amount of 
money — absolutely unlimited, you understand. They 
looked round for an agent who was capable of wielding this 
gigantic power. The man chosen must be inventive, resolute. 



. THE LOST SPECIAL 187 

adaptive — a man in a million. They chose Herbert de 
Lernac, and I admit that they were right. 

" My duties were to choose my subordinates, to use 
freely the power which money gives, and to make certain 
that Monsieur Caratal should never arrive in Paris. \S[ith 
cha racteris tic energy I set about my commission within an 
Hour of receiving my instructions, and the steps which I 
took were the very best for the purpose which could pos- 
sibly be devised. 

" A man whom I could trust was dispatched instantly to 
South America to travel home with Monsieur Caratal. Had 
he arrived in time the ship would never have reached Liver- 
pool; but, alas, it had already started before my agent 
could reach it. I fitted out a small armed brig to intercept 
it, but again I was unfortunate. Like all great organizers 
I was, however, prepared for failure, and had a series of 
alternatives prepared, one or the other of which must suc- 
ceed. You must not underrate the difficulties of my under- 
taking, or imagine that a mere commonplace assassination 
would meet the case. We must destroy not only Monsieur 
Caratal, but Monsieur Caratal's documents, and Monsieur 
CarataPs companions also, if we had reason to believe that 
he had communicated his secrets to them. And you must 
remember that they were on the alert, and keenly suspicious 
of any such attempt. It was a task which was in every way 
worthy of me, for I am always most masterful where an- 
other would be appalled. 

" I was all ready for Monsieur CarataPs reception in 
Liverpool, and I was the more eager because I had reason 
to believe that he had made arrangements by which he would 
have a considerable guard from the moment that he ar- 



188 THE LOST SPECIAL 

rived in London. Anything which was to be done must be 
done between the moment of his setting foot upon the 
Liverpool quay and that of his arrival at the London and 
West Coast terminus in London. We prepared six plans, 
each more elaborate than the last; which plan would be 
used would depend upon his own movements. Do what he 
would, we were ready for him. If he had stayed in Liver- 
pool, we were ready. If he took an ordinary train, an ex- 
press, or a special, all was ready. Everything had been 
foreseen and provided for. 

" You may imagine that I could not do all this myself. 
What could I know of the English railway lines? But 
money can procure willing agents all the world over, and I 
soon had one of the acutest brains in England to assist me. 
I will mention no names, but it would be unjust to claim all 
the credit for myself. My English ally was worthy of such 
an alliance. He knew the London and West Coast line thor- 
oughly, and he had the command of a band of workers who 
were trustworthy and intelligent. The idea was his, and 
my own judgment was only required in the details. We 
bought over several officials, amongst whom the most impor- 
tant was James McPherson, whom we had ascertained to be 
the guard most likely to be employed upon a special train. 
Smith, the stoker, was also in our employ. John Slater, the 
engine-driver, had been approached, but had been found 
to be obstinate and dangerous, so we desisted. We had no 
certainty that Monsieur Caratal would take a special, but 
we thought it very probable, for it was of the utmost im- 
portance to him that he should reach Paris without delay. 
It was for this contingency, therefore, that we made special 
preparations — preparations which were complete down to 



THE LOST SPECIAL 189 

the last detail long before his steamer had sighted the 
shores of England. You will be amused to learn that there 
was one of my agents in the pilot-boat which brought that 
steamer to its moorings. 

" The moment that Caratal arrived in Liverpool we 
knew that he suspected danger and was on his guard. He 
had brought with him as an escort a da ngerous fello w^ 
named Gomez, a man who carried weapons, and was pre- 
pared to use them. This fellow carried CarataPs confi- 
dential papers for him, and was ready to protect either 
them or his master. The probability was that Caratal had 
taken him into his counsels, and that to remove Caratal 
without removing Gomez w6uld be a mere waste of energy. 
It was necessary that they should be involved in a common 
fate, and our plans to that end were much facilitated by 
their request for a special train. On that special train you 
will understand that two out of the three servants of the 
company were really in our employ, at a price which would 
make them independent for a lifetime. I do not go so far 
as to say that the English are more honest than any other 
nation, but I have found them more expensive to buy. 

" I have already spoken of my English agent — who is 
a man with a considerable future before him, unless some 
complaint of the throat carries him off before his time. He 
had charge of all arrangements at Liverpool, whilst I was 
stationed at the inn at Kenyon, where I awaited a cipher 
signal to act. When the special was arranged for, my agent 
instantly telegraphed to me and warned me how soon I 
should have everything ready. He himself under the name 
of Horace Moore applied immediately for a special also, in 
the hope that "he would be sent down with Monsieur Caratalj^ 



190 THE LOST SPECIAL 

which might under certain circumstances have been help- 
ful to us. If, for example, our great coup had failed, it 
would then have become the duty of my agent to have shot 
them both and destroyed their papers. Caratal was on his 
guard, however, and refused to admit any other traveler. 
My agent then left the station, returned by another en- 
trance, entered the guard's van on the side farthest from 
the platform, and traveled down with McPherson the guard. 

" In the meantime you will be interested to know what 
my movements were. Everything had been prepared for 
days before, and only the finishing touches were needed. 
The side line which we had chosen had once joined the 
main line, but it had been disconnected. We had only to 
replace a few rails to connect it once more. These rails had 
been laid down as far as could be done without danger of 
attracting attention, and now it was merely a case of com- 
pleting a juncture with the line, and arranging the points 
as they had been before. The sleepers had never been re- 
moved, and the rails, fish-plates, and rivets were all ready, 
for we had taken them from a siding on the abandoned 
portion of the line. With my small but competent band of 
workers, we had everything ready long before the special 
arrived. When it did arrive, it ran off upon the small side 
line so easily that the jolting of the points appears to have 
been entirely unnoticed by the two travelers. 

" Our plan had been that Smith the stoker should chloro- 
form John Slater the driver, so that he should vanish with 
the others. In this respect, and in this respect only, our 
plans miscarried — I except the criminal folly of McPher- 
son in writing home to his wife. Our stoker did his business 
so clumsily that Slater in his struggles fell off the engine. 



THE LOST SPECIAL 191 

and though fortune was with us so far that he broke his 
neck in the fall, still he remained as a blot upon that which 
would otherwise have been one of those complete master- 
pieces which are only lo be contemplated in silent admira- 
tion. The criminal expert will find in John Slater the one 
flaw in all our admirable combinations. A man who has 
had as many triumphs as I can aff^ord to be frank, and I 
therefore lay my finger upon John Slater, and I proclaim 
him to be a flaw. 

" But now I have got our special train upon the small 
line two kilometers, or rather more than one mile, in length, 
which leads, or rather used to lead, to the abandoned 
Heartsease mine, once one of the largest coal mines in Eng- 
land. You will ask how it is that no one saw the train upon 
this unused line. I answer that along its entire length it 
runs through a deep cutting, and that, unless some one had . 
been on the edge of that cutting, he could not have seen it. 
There was some one on the edge of that cutting. I was 
there. And now I will tell you what I saw. 

" My assistant had remained at the points in order that 
he might superintend the switching off^ of the train. He 
had four armed men with him, so that if the train ran off 
the line — we thought it probable, because the points were 
very rusty — we might still have resources to fall back 
upon. Having once seen it safely on the side line, he 
handed over the responsibility to me. I was waiting at a 
point which overlooks the mouth of the mine, and I was 
also armed, as were my two companions. Come what might, 
you see, I was always ready, 

" The moment that the train was fairly on the side line, 
Smith, the stoker, slowed-down the engine, and then, having 



192 THE LOST SPECIAL 

turned It on to the fullest speed again, he and McPherson, 
with my English lieutenant, sprang off before it was too 
late. It may be that it was this slowing-down which first at- 
tracted the attention of the travelers, but the train was run- 
ning at full speed again before their heads appeared at 
the open window. It makes me smile to think how bewil- 
dered they must have been. Picture to yourself your own 
feelings if, on looking out of your luxurious carriage, you 
suddenly perceived that the lines upon which you ran were 
rusted and corroded, red and yellow with disuse and decay ! 
What a catch must have come in their breath as in a second 
it flashed upon them that it was not Manchester but Death 
which was waiting for them at the end of that sinister line. 
But the train was running with frantic speed, rolling and 
rocking over the rotten line, while the wheels made a fright- 
ful screaming sound upon the rusted surface. I was close 
to them, and could see their faces. Caratal was praying, I 
think — there was something like a rosary dangling out 
of his hand. The other roared like a bull who smells the 
blood of the slaughter-house. He saw us standing on the 
bank, and he beckoned to us like a madman. Then he tore 
at his wrist and threw his dispatch-box out of the window 
in our direction. Of course, his meaning was obvious. 
Here was the evidence, and they would promise to be silent 
if their lives were spared. It would have been very agree- 
able if we could have done so, but business is business. Be- 
sides, the train was now as much beyond our control as 
theirs. 

" He ceased howling when the train rattled round the 
curve and they saw the black mouth of the mine yawning 
before them. We had removed the boards which had cov- 



THE LOST SPECIAL 198 

ered it, and we had cleared the square entrance. The rails 
had formerly run very close to the shaft for the con- 
venience of loading the coal, and we had only to add two 
or three lengths of rail in order to lead to the very brink 
of the shaft. In fact, as the lengths would not quite fit, 
our line projected about three feet over the edge. We saw 
the two heads at the window : Caratal below, Gomez above ; 
but they had both been struck silent by what they saw. 
And yet they could not withdraw their heads. The sight 
seemed to have paralyzed them. 

" I had wondered how the train running at a great 
speed would take the pit into which I had guided it, 
and I was much interested in watching it. One of my 
colleagues thought that it would actually jump it, and 
indeed it was not very far from doing so. Fortunately, 
however, it fell short, and the buffers of the engine struck 
the other lip of the shaft with a tremendous crash. The 
funnel flew off into the air. The tender, carriages, and 
van were all smashed up into one jiunble, which, with 
the remains of the engine, choked for a minute or so the 
mouth of the pit. Then something gave way in the middle, 
and the whole mass of green iron, smoking coals, brass 
fittings, wheels, woodwork, and cushions all crumbled to- 
gether and crashed down into the mine. We heard the 
rattle, rattle, rattle, as the debris struck against the walls, 
and then quite a long time afterwards there came a deep 
roar as the remains of the train struck the bottom. The 
boiler may have burst, for a sharp crash came after the 
roar, and then a dense cloud of steam and smoke swirled 
up out of the black depths, falling in a spray as thick as 
rain all round us. Then the vapor shredded off into thin 



194 THE LOST SPECIAL 

wisps, which floated away in the summer sunshine, and 
all was quiet again in the Heartsease mine. 

" And now, having carried out our plans so success- 
fully, it only remained to leave no trace behind us. Our 
little band of workers at the other end had already ripped 
up the rails and disconnected the side line, replacing every- 
thing as it had been before. We were equally busy at the 
mine. The funnel and other fragments were thrown in, 
the shaft was planked over as it used to be, and the lines 
which led to it were torn up and taken away. Then, with- 
out flurry, but without delay, we all made our way out 
of the country, most of us to Paris, my English colleague 
to Manchester, and McPherson to Southampton, whence 
he emigrated to America. Let the English papers of that 
date tell how thoroughly we had done our work, and how 
completely we had thrown the cleverest of their detectives 
off^ our track. 

" You will remember that Gomez threw his bag of papers 
out of the window, and I need not say that I secured that 
bag and brought them to my employers. It may interest 
my employers now, however, to learn that out of that bag 
I took one or two little papers as a souvenir of the occa- 
sion. I have no wish to publish these papers ; but, still, 
it is every man for himself in^this world, and what else 
can I do if my friends will pot come to my aid when I 
want them? Messieurs, you may believe that Herbert de 
Lernac is quite as formidable when he is against you as 
when he is with you, and that he is not a man to go, to 
the guillotine until he has seen that every one of you is 
en route for New Caledonia. For your own sake, if not 
for mine, make haste. Monsieur de , and General — - — , 



THE LOST SPECIAL 195 

and Baron (you can fill up the blanks for yourselves 

as you read this). I promise you that in the next edition 
there will be no blanks to fill. 

" P. S. — As I look over my statement there is only 
one omission which I can see. It concerns the unfortunate 
man McPherson, who was foolish enough to write to his 
wife and to make an appointment with her in New York. 
It can be imagined that when interests like ours were at 
stake, we could not leave them to the chance of whether a 
man in that class of life would or would not give away 
his secrets to a woman. Having once broken his oath by 
writing to his wife, we could not trust him any more. 
We took steps therefore to insure that he should ngt see 
his wife. I have sometimes thought that it would be a 
kindness to write to her and to assure her that there is 
no impediment to her marrying again," 



THE CLUB-FOOTED GROCER 

My uncle, Mr. Stephen Maple, had been at the 
same time the most successful and the least re- 
spectable of our family, so that we hardly knew 
whether to take credit for his wealth or to feel ashamed 
of his position. He had, as a matter of fact, established 
a large grocery in Stepney which did a curious mixed 
business, not always, as we had heard, of a very savory 
character, with the riverside and seafaring people. He 
was ship's chandler, provision merchant, and, if rumor 
spoke truly, some other things as well. Such a trade, 
however lucrative, had its drawbacks, as was evident when, 
after twenty years of prosperity, he was savagely assaulted 
by one of his customers and left for dead, with three 
smashed ribs and a broken leg, which mended so badly 
that it remained forever three inches: shorter than the 
other. This incident seemed, not unnaturally, to disgust 
him with his surroundings, for, after the trial, in which 
his assailant was condemned to fifteen years* penal servi- 
tude, he retired from his business and settled in a lonely, 
part of the North of England, whence, until that morning, 
we had never once heard of him — not even at the death 
of my father, who was his only brother. 

My mother read his letter aloud to me : " If your son 
is with you, Ellen, and if he is as stout a lad as he promised 
for when last I heard from you, then send him up to 

196 



THE CLUB-FOOTED GROCER 197 

me by the first train after this comes to hand. He will 
find that to serve me will pay him better than the en- 
gineering, and if I pass away (though, thank God, there 
is no reason to complain as to my health) you will see 
that I have not forgotten my brother's son. Congleton is 
the station, and then a drive of four miles to Greta House, 
where I am now living. I will send a trap to meet the seven 
o'clock train, for it is the only one which stops here. 
Mind that you send him, Ellen, for I have very strong 
reasons for wishing him to be with me. Let bygones be 
bygones if there has been anything between us in the 
past. If you should fail me now you will live to regret it." 

We were seated at either side of the breakfast table, 
looking blankly at each other and wondering what this 
might mean, when there came a ring at the bell, and the 
maid walked in with a telegram. It was from Uncle 
Stephen. 

" On no account let John get out at Congleton," said 
the message. " He will find trap waiting seven o'clock 
evening train Stedding Bridge, one station further down 
line. Let him drive not me, but Garth Farm House — six 
miles. There will receive instructions. Do not fail; only 
you to look to." 

" That is true enough," said my mother. " As far as 
I know, your uncle has not a friend in the world, nor 
has he ever deserved one. He has always been a hard man 
in his dealings, and he held back his money from your 
father at a time when a few pounds would have saved him 
from ruin. Why should I send my only son to serve him 
now?" 

But my own inclinations were all for the adventure. 



198 THE CLUB-FOOTED GROCER 

" If I have him for a friend, he can help me in my 
profession," I argued, taking my mother upon her weakest 
side. 

" I have never known him to help anyone yet," said 
she, bitterly. " And why all this mystery about getting 
out at a distant station and driving to the wrong address? 
He has got himself into some trouble and he wishes us 
to get him out of it. When he has used us he will throw 
us aside as he has done before. Your father might have 
been living now if he had only helped him." 

But at last my arguments prevailed, for, as I pointed 
out, we had much to gain and little to lose, and why 
should we, the poorest members of a family, go out of 
our way to offend the rich one? My bag was packed and 
my cab at the door, when there came a second telegram. 

" Good shooting. Let John bring gun. Remember Sted- 
ding Bridge, not Congleton." And so, with a gun-case 
added to my luggage and some surprise at my uncle's in- 
sistence, I started off upon my adventure. 

The journey lies over the main Northern Railway as 
far as the station of Carnfield, where one changes for the 
little branch line which winds over the fells. In all England 
there is no harsher or more impressive scenery. For two 
hours I passed through desolate rolling plains, rising at 
places into low, stone-littered hills, with long, straight 
outcrops of jagged rock showing upon their surface. 
Here and there little gray-roofed, gray-walled cottages hud- 
dled into villages, but for many miles at a time no house 
was visible nor any sign of life save the scattered sheep 
which wandered over the mountain sides. It was a depress- 
ing country, and my heart grew heavier and heavier as 



THE CLUB-FOOTED GROCER 199 

I neared my journey's end, until at last the train pulled 
up at the little village of Stedding Bridge, where my uncle 
had told me to alight. A single ramshackle trap, with a 
country lout to drive it, was waiting at the station. 

" Is this Mr. Stephen Maple's? " I asked. 

The fellow looked at me with eyes which were full 
of suspicion. "What is your name?" he asked, speaking 
a dialect which I will not attempt to reproduce. 

" John Maple." 

" Anything to prove it? " 

I half raised my hand, for my temper is none of the 
best, and then I reflected that the fellow was probably 
only carrying out the directions of my uncle. For answer 
I pointed to my name printed upon my gun-case. 

" Yes, yes, that is right. It's John Maple sUre enough ! " 
said he, slowly spelling it out. " Get in, maister, for we 
have a bit of a drive before us." 

The road, white and shining, like all the roads in that 
limestone country, ran in long sweeps over the fells, with 
low walls of loose stone upon either side of it. The huge 
moors, mottled with sheep and with boulders, rolled away 
in gradually ascending curves to the misty sky-line. In 
one place a fall of the land gave a glimpse of a gray angle 
of distant sea. Bleak and sad and stern were all my sur- 
roundings, and I felt, under their influence, that this 
curious mission of mine was a more serious thing than 
it had appeared when viewed from London. This sudden 
call for help from an uncle whom I had never seen, and 
of whom I had heard little that was good, the urgency 
of it, his reference to my physical powers, the excuse by 
which he had ensured that I should bring a weapon^ all 



200 THE CLUB-FOOTED GROCER 

hung together and pointed to some vague but sinister 
meaning. Things which appeared to be impossible in Ken- 
sington became very probable upon these wild and isolated 
hillsides. At last, oppressed with my own dark thoughts, 
I turned to my companion with the intention of asking 
some questions about my imcle, but the expression upon 
his face drove the idea from my head. 

He was not looking at his old, undipped chestnut horse, 
nor at the road along which he was driving, but his face 
was turned in my direction, and he was staring past me 
with an expression of curiosity and, as I thought, of ap- 
prehension. He raised the whip to lash the horse, and then 
dropped it again, as if convinced that it was useless. At 
the same time, following the direction of his gaze, I saw 
what it was which had excited him. 

A man was running across the moor. He ran clumsily, 
stumbling and slipping among the stones; but the road 
curved, and it was easy for him to cut us off. As we came 
up to the spot for which he had been making, he scrambled 
over the stone wall and stood waiting, with the evening 
' sun shining on his brown, dean-shaven face. He was a 
burly fellow, and in bad condition, for he stood with his 
hand on his ribs panting and blowing after his short run. 
As we drove up I saw the glint of earrings in his ears. 

" Say, mate, where are you bound for? " he asked, in 
a rough but good-humored fashion. 

" Farmer PurcelPs, at the Garth Farm," said the driver. 

" Sorry to stop you," cried the other, standing aside ; 
" I thought as I would hail you as you passed, for if 
so be as you had been going my way I should have made 
bold to ask you for a passage." 



THE CLUB-FOOTED GROCER 201 

His excuse was an absurd one, since it was evident that 
our little trap was as full as it could be, but my driver 
did not seem disposed to argue. He drove on without a 
word, and, looking back, I could see the stranger sitting 
by the roadside and cramming tobacco into his pipe. 

" A sailor," said I. 

" Yes, maister. We're not more than a few miles from 
Morecambe Bay," the driver remarked. 

" You seemed frightened of him," I observed. 

" Did I? " said he, drily; and then, after a long pause, 
" Maybe I was." As to his reasons for fear, I could get 
nothing from him, and though I asked him many questions 
he was so stupid, or else so clever, that I could learn noth- 
ing from his replies. I observed, however, that from time 
to time he swept the moors with a troubled eye, but their 
huge brown expanse was unbroken by any moving figure. 
At last in a sort of cleft in the hills in front of us I saw 
a long, low-lying farm building, the center of all those 
scattered flocks. 

" Garth Farin," said my driver. " There is Farmer Pur- 
cell himself," he added, as a man strolled out of the porch 
and stood waiting for our arrival. He advanced as I de- 
scended from the trap, a hard, weather-worn fellow with 
light blue eyes, and hair and beard like sun-bleached grass. 
In his expression I read the same surly ill-will which I had 
already observed in my driver. Their malevolence couM 
not be directed towards a complete stranger like myself, 
and so I began to suspect that my uncle was no more 
popular on the north-country fells than he had been in 
Stepney Highway. 

*' You're to stay here until nightfall. That's Mr. Ste- 



JBOa THE CLUB-FOOTED GROCER 

phen Maple's wish," said he, curtly. " You can have some 
tea and bacon if you like. It's the best we can give you." 

I was very hungry, and accepted the hospitality in spite 
of the churlish tone in which it waus offered. The farmer's 
wife and his two daughters came into the sitting-room 
during the mealj^and^IWas aware of a certain curiosity 
with which they regarded me. It may have been that a 
young man was a rarity in this wilderness, or it may be 
that my attempts at conversation won their good will, but 
they all three showed a kindliness in their manner. It was 
getting dark, so I remarked that it was time for me to 
be pushing on to Greta House. 

"You've made up your mind to go, then?" said the 
older woman. 

" Certainly. I have come all the way from London." 

" There's no one hindering you from going back there." 

" But I have come to see Mr. Maple, my uncle." 

** Oh, well, no one can stop you if you want to go on," 
said the woman, and became silent as her husband entered 
the room. 

With every fresh incident I felt that I was moving in 
an atmosphere of mystery and peril, and yet it was all so 
intangible and so vague that I could not guess where my 
danger lay. I should have asked the farmer's wife point- 
blank, but her surly husband seemed to divine the sympa- 
thy which she felt for me, and never again left us together. 
** It's time you were going, mister," said he at last, as his 
wife lit the lamp upon the table. 

"Is the trap ready?" 

" You'll need no trap. You'll walk," said he, 

" How shall I know the way? " 



' THE CLUB-POOTED GROCER 203 

*' William will go with you." 

William was the youth who had driven me up from the 
station. He was waiting at the door, and he shouldered 
my gun-case and bag. I stayed behind to thank the farmer 
for his hospitality, but he would have none of it. " I ask 
no thanks from Mr. Stephen Maple nor any friend of his,*' 
said he, bluntly. " I am paid for what I do. If I was not 
paid I would not do it. Go your way, young man, and 
say no more." He turned rudely on his heel and re-entered 
his house, slamming the door behind him. 

It was quite dark outside, with heavy black clouds drift- 
ing slowly across the sky. Once clear of the farm inclosure 
and out on the moor I should have been hopelessly lost if 
it had not been for my guide, who walked in front of me 
along narrow sheep-tracks which were quite invisible to me. 
Every now and then, without seeing anything, we heard 
the clumsy scuffling of the creatures in the darkness. At 
first my guide walked swiftly and carelessly, but gradually 
his pace slowed down, until at last he was going very 
slowly and stealthily, like one who walks light-footed amid 
imminent menace. This vague, inexplicable sense of danger 
in the midst of the loneliness of that vast moor was more 
daunting than any evident peril could be, and I had begun 
to press him as to what it was that he feared, when sud- 
denly he stopped and dragged me down among some gorse 
bushes which lined the path. His tug at my coat was so 
strenuous and imperative that I realized that the danger 
was a pressing one, and in an instant I was squatting down 
beside him as still as the bushes which shadowed us. It was 
so dark there that I could not even see the lad beside me. 

It was a warm night, and a hot wind puffed in our faces. 



204 THE CLUB-FOOTED GROCER 

Suddenly in this wind there came something homely and 
familiar — the smell of burning tobacco. And then a 
face, illuminated by the glowing bowl of a pipe, came 
floating towards us. The man was all in shadow, but just 
that one dim halo of light with the face which filled it, 
brighter below and shading away into darkness above, stood 
out against the universal blackness. A thin, hungry face, 
thickly freckled with yellow over the cheelTlBiJllus, blue, 
watery eyes, an ill-nourished, light-colored mustache, a 
peaked yachting cap — that was all that I saw. He passed 
us, looking vacantly in front of him, and we heard the 
steps dying away along the path. 

" Who was it? " I asked, as we rose to our feet. 

" I don't know." 

The fellow's continual profession of ignorance made me 
angry. 

"Why should you hide yourself, then.?" I asked, 
sharply. 

" Because Maister Maple told me. He said that I were 
to meet no one. If I met anyone I should get no pay." 

** You met that sailor on the road? " 

*' Yes, and I think he was one of them." 

** One of whom ? " 

"One of the folk that have come on the fells. They 
are watchin' Greta House, and Maister Maple is afeard 
of them. That's why he wanted us to keep clear of them, 
and that's why I've been a-trying to dodge 'em." 

Here was something definite at last. Some body of men 
were threatening my uncle. The sailor was one of them. 
The man with the peaked cap — probably a sailor also — 
was another. I bethought me of Stepney Highway and of 



THE CLUB-FOOTED GROCER «05 

the murderous assault made upon my uncle there. Things 
were fitting themselves into a connected shape in my mind 
when a light twinkled over the fell, and my guide informed 
me that it was Greta. The place lay in a dip among the 
moors, so that one was very near it before one saw it. A 
short walk brought us up to the door. 

I could see little of the building save that the lamp 
which shone through a small latticed window showed me 
dimly that it was both long and lofty. The low door 
under an overhanging lintel was loosely fitted, and light 
was bursting out on each side of it. The inmates of 
this lonely house appeared to be keenly on their guard, 
for they had heard our footsteps, and we were challenged 
before we reached the door. 

*' Who is there ? " cried a deep-booming voice, and urg- 
ently, "Who is it, I say?" 

" It's me, Maister Maple. I have brought the gentle- 
man." 

There was a sharp click, and a small wooden shutter 
flew open in the door. The gleam of a lantern shone upon 
us for a few seconds. Then the shutter closed again ; with 
a great rasping of locks and clattering of bars, the door 
was opened, and I saw my uncle standing framed in that 
vivid yellow square cut out of the darkness. 

He was a small, thick man, with a great rounded, bald 
head and one thin border of gingery curls. It was a fine 
head, the head of a thinker, but his large white face was 
heavy and commonplace, with a broad, loose-lipped mouth 
and two hanging dewlaps on either side of it. His eyes 
were small and restless, and his light-colored lashes were 
c ontinually moving. My mother had said once that they 



206 THE CLUB-FOOTED GROCER 

reminded her of the legs of a woodlouse, and I saw at 
the first glance what she meant. I heard also that in 
Stepney he had learned the language of his customers, 
and I blushed for our kinship as I listened to his vil- 
lainous accent. ** So, nephew," said he, holding out his 
hand. ^^ Come in, come in, man, quick, and don't leave 
the door open. Your mother said you were grown a big 
lad, and, my word, she 'as a right to say so. 'Ere's a 
'alf-crown for you, William, and you can go back again. 
Put the things down. 'Ere, Enoch, take Mr. John's things, 
and see that 'is supper is on the table." 

As my uncle, after fastening the door, turned to show 
me into the sitting-room, I became aware of his most 
striking peculiarity. The injuries which he had received 
some years ago had, as I have already remarked, left one 
leg several inches shorter than the other. To atone for 
this he wore one of those enormous wooden soles to his 
boots which are prescribed by surgeons in such cases. He 
walked without a limp, but his tread on the stone flooring 
made a curious clack-click, clack-click, as the wood and 
the leather alternated. Whenever he moved it was to the 
rhythm of this singular castanet. 

The great kitchen, with its huge fireplace and carved 
settle comers, showed that this dwelling was an old-time 
farmhouse. On one side of the room a line of boxes stood 
all corded and packed. The furniture was scant and plain, 
but on a trestle-table in the center some supper, cold meat, 
bread, and a jug of beer was laid for me. An elderly man- 
servant, as manifest a Cockney as his master, waited upon 
me, while my uncle, sitting in a corner, asked me many 
questions as to my mother and myself. When my meal 



THE CLUB-POOTED GROCER 207 

was finished he ordered his man Enoch to unpack my gun. 
I observed that two other guns, old rusted weapons, were 
leaning against the wall beside the window. 

" It's the window I'm afraid of," said my uncle, in 
the deep, reverberant voice which contrasted oddly with his 
plump little figure. " The door's safe against anything 
short of dynamite, but the window's a terror. Hi ! hi ! " he 
yelled, " don't walk across the light ! You can duck when 
you pass the lattice." 

" For fear of being seen? " I asked. 

"For fear of bein' shot, my lad. That's the trouble. 
Now, come an' sit beside me on the trestle 'ere, and I'll 
tell you all about it, for I can see that you are ihe right 
sort and can be trusted." 

His flattery was clumsy and halting, and it was evident 
that he was very eager to conciliate me. I sat down beside 
him, and he drew a folded paper from his pocket. It was a 
Western Morning News, and the date was ten days before. 
The passage over which he pressed a long, black nail was 
concerned with the release from Dartmoor of a convict 
named Ellas, whose term of sentence had been remitted on 
account of his defense of a warder who had been attacked 
in the quarries. The whole account was only a few lines 
long. 

"Who IS he, then?" I asked. 

My uncle cocked his distorted foot into the air. " That's 
'is mark ! " said he. " 'E was doin' time for that. Now 
'e's out an' after me again." 

" But why should he be after you? " 

"Because 'e wants to kill me. Because 'e'U never rest, 
the worrying devil, until 'e's 'as 'ad 'is revenge on me. 



208 THE CLUB-FOOTED GROCER 

It's this way, nephew ! I've no secrets from you. 'E thinks 
I've wronged 'im. For argument's sake we'll suppose I 'ave 
wronged 'im. And now 'im and 'is friends are after me.*' 

** Who are his friends.? " 

My uncle's boom sank suddenly to a frightened whisper. 
" Sailors ! " said he. " I knew they would come when I 
saw that 'ere paper and two days ago I looked through 
that window and three of them was standin' lookin' at the 
'ouse. It was after that that I wrote to your mother. 
They've marked me down, and they're waitin' for 'im." 

" But why not send for the police? " 

My uncle's eyes avoided mine. 

** Police are no use," said he. " It's you that can help 
me." 

"What can I do?" 

" I'll tell you. I'm going to move. That's what all these 
boxes are for. Everything will soon be packed and ready. 
I 'ave friends at Leeds, and I shall be safer there. Not 
safe, mind you, but safer. I start to-morrow evening, and 
if you will stand by me until then I will make it worth 
your while. There's only Enoch and me to do everything, 
but we shall 'ave it all ready, I promise you, by to-morrow 
evening. The cart will be round then, and you and me 
and Enoch and the boy William can guard the things 
as far as Congleton station. Did you see anything of 
them on the fells? " 

" Yes," said I ; " a sailor stopped us on the way." 

" Ah, I knew they were watching us. That was why 
I asked you to get out at the wrong station and to drive 
to Purcell's instead of comin' 'ere. We are blockaded — 
that's the word." 



THE CLUB-FOOTED GROCER 209 

" And there was another," said I, " a man with a 
pipe.'^ 

"What was 'e like?" 

" Thin face, freckles, a peaked — " 

My uncle gave ei.hoa]se..jscr£aBOU 

" That's 'im ! that's 'im ! 'e's come ! God be merciful to 
me, a sinner ! " He went click-clacking about the room 
with his great foot like one distracted. There was some- 
thing piteous and baby-like in that big bald head, and for 
the first time I felt a gush of pity for him. 

** Come, uncle," said I, " you are living in a civilized 
land. There is a law that will bring these gentry to order. 
Let me drive over to the county police-station to-morrow 
morning and I'll soon set things right." 

But he shook his head at me. 

" 'E's cunning and 'e's cruel," said he. " I can't draw 
a breath without thinking of him, cos 'e buckled up 
three of my ribs. 'E'U kill me this time, sure. There's only 
one chance. We must leave what we 'ave not packed, and 
we must be off first thing to-morrow momin'. Great God, 
what's that!" 

A tremendous knock upon the door had reverberated 
through the house and then another and another. An iron 
fist seemed to be beating upon it. My uncle collapsed into 
his chair. I seized a gun and ran to the door. 

" Who's there? " I shouted. 

There was no answer. 

I opened the shutter and looked out. 

No one was there. 

And then suddenly I saw that a long slip of paper 
was protruding through the slit of the door. I held it to 



«10 THE CLUB-FOOTED GROCER 

the light. In rude but vigorous handwriting the message 
ran: — 

" Put them out on the doorstep and save your skin." 

"What do they want?" I asked, as I read him the 
message. 

" What they'll never 'ave ! No, by the Lord, never ! " 
he cried, with a fine burst of spirit. " 'Ere, Enoch ! 
Enoch!" 

The old fellow came running to the call. 

" Enoch, I've been a good master to you all my life, 
and it's your turn now. Will you take a risk for me? " 

I thought better of my uncle when I saw how readily 
the man consented. Whomever else he had wronged, this 
one at least seemed to love him. 

" Put your cloak on and your 'at, Enoch, and out with 
you by the back door. You know the way across the moor 
to the Purcells'. Tell them that I must 'ave the cart first 
thing in the mornin', and that Purcell must come with 
the shepherd as well. We must get clear of this or we are 
done. First thing in the mornin', Enoch, and ten pound 
for the job. Keep the black cloak on and move slow, and 
they will never see you. We'll keep the 'ouse till you come 
back." 

It was a job for a brave man to venture out into the 
vague and invisible dangers of the fell, but the old servant 
took it as the most ordinary of messages. Picking his long, 
black cloak and his soft hat from the hook behind the 
door, he was ready on the instant. We extinguished the 
small lamp in the back passage, softly unbarred the back 
door, slipped him out, and barred it up again. Looking 



THE CLUB-POOTED GROCER 211 

through the small hall window, I saw his black garments 
merge instantly into the night. 

" It is but a few hours before the light comes, nephew," 
said my uncle, after he had tried all the bolts and bars. 
** You shall never regret this night's work. If we come 
through safely it will be the making of you. Stand by 
me till momin', and I stand by you while there's breath in 
my body. The cart wiU be 'ere by five. What isn't ready 
we can afford to leave be'ind. We've only to load up and 
make for the early train at Congleton." 

" Will they let us pass? " 

" In broad daylight they dare not stop us. There will 
be six of us, if they all come, and three guns. We can 
fight our way through. Where can they get guns, com- 
mon, wandering seamen? A pistol or two at the most. 
If we can keep them out for a few hours we are safe. 
Enoch must be 'alfway to Purcell's by now." 

**But what do these sailors want?" I repeated, "You 
say yourself that you wronged them." 

A look of mulish obstinacy came over his large, white 
face. 

" Don't ask questions, nephew, and just do what I ask 
you," said he. " Enoch won't come back. 'E'll just bide 
there and come with the cart. 'Ark, what is that? " 

A distant cry rang from out of the darkness, and then 
another one, short and sharp like the wail of the curlew. 

" It's Enoch ! " said my uncle, gripping my arm. 
" They're killin' poor old Enoch." 

The cry came again, much nearer, and I heard the sound 
of hurrying steps and a shrill call for help. 



812 THE CLUB-FOOTED GROCER 

" They are after 'im ! " cried my uncle, rushing to the 
front door. He picked up the lantern and iSashed it through 
the little shutter. Up the yellow funnel of light a man was 
running frantically, his head bowed and a black cloak 
fluttering behind him. The moor seemed to be alive with 
dim pursuers. 

" The bolt ! The bolt ! " gasped my uncle. He pushed 
it back whilst I turned the key, and we swung the door 
open to admit the fugitive. He dashed in and turned at 
once with a long yell of triumph. " Come on, lads ! Tumble 
up, all hands, timible up ! Smartly there, all of you ! " 

It was so quickly and neatly done that we were taken 
by storm before we knew that we were attacked. The pas- 
sage was full of rushing sailors. I slipped out of the 
clutch of one and ran for my gun, but it was only to 
crash down on to the stone floor an instant later with two 
of them holding on to me. They were so deft and quick 
that my hands were lashed together even while I struggled, 
and I was dragged into the settle comer, unhurt but very 
sore in spirit at the cunning with which our defences had 
been forced and the ease with which we had been overcome. 
They had not even troubled to bind my uncle, but he had 
been pushed into his chair, and the guns had been taken 
away. He sat with a very white face, his homely figure 
and absurd row of curls looking curiously out of place 
among the wild figures who surrounded him. 

There were six of them, all evidently sailors. One I 
recognized as the man with the earrings whom I had 
already met upon the road that evening. They were all 
fine, weather-bronzed bewhiskered fellows. In the midst of 
them, leaning against the table, was the freckled man 



THE CLUB-POOTED GROCER 213 

who had passed me on the moor. The great black cloak 
which poor Enoch had taken out with him was still hang- 
ing from his shoulders. He was of a very different type 
from the others — crafty, cruel, dangerous, with sly, 
thoughtful eyes which gloated over my uncle. They sud- 
denly turned themselves upon me and I never knew how 
one's skin can creep at a man's glance before. 

" Who are you? " he asked. " Speak out, or we'll find a 
way to make you." 

** I am Mr. Stephen Maple's nephew, come to visit him." 

" You are, are you? Well, I wish you joy of your uncle 
and of your visit too. Quick's the word, lads, for we must 
be aboard before morning. What shall we do with the 
old 'un?" 

" Trice him up Yankee fashion and give him six dozen," 
said one of the seamen. 

"D'you hear, you cursed Cockney thief? We'll beat 
the life out of you if you don't give back what you've 
stolen. Where are they? I know you never parted with 
them." 

My uncle pursed up his lips and shook his head, with a 
face in which his fear and his obstinacy contended. 

" Won't tell, won't you? We'll see about that! Get him 
ready, Jim!" 

One of the seamen seized my uncle, and pulled his coat 
and shirt over his shoulders. He sat lumped in his chair, 
his body all creased into white rolls which shivered with 
cold and with terror. 

" Up with him to those hooks." 

There were rows of them along the walls where the 
smoked meat used to be hung. The seamen tied my uncle 



214 THE CLUB-FOOTED GROCER 

by the wrists to two of these. Then one of them undid his 
leather belt. 

" The buckle end, Jim," said the captain. ** Give him 
the buckle." 

" You cowards," I cried ; ** to beat an old man ! " 

** We'll beat a young one next," said he, with a malev- 
olent glance at my comer. ** Now, Jim, cut a wad out 
of him!" 

" Give him one more chance ! " cried one of the seamen. 

** Aye, aye," growled one or two others. " Give the 
swab a chance ! " 

** If you turn soft, you may give them up for ever," 
said the captain. " One thing or the other ! You must lash 
it out of him; or you may give up what you took such 
pains to win and what would mabs you gentlemen for 
life — every man of you. There's nothing else for it. 
Which shall it be?" 

" Let him have it," they cried, savagely. 

"Then stand clear!" The buckle of the man's belt 
whined savagely as he whirled it over his shoulder. 

But my uncTe cried out before the blow fell. 

" I can't stand it ! " he cried. . " Let me down ! " 

" Where are they, then? " 

" I'll show you if you'll let me down." 

They cast off the handkerchiefs and he pulled his coat 
over his fat, round shoulders. The seamen stood round him, 
the most intense curiosity and excitement upon their 
swarthy faces. 

" No gammon ! " cried the man with the freckles. " We'll 
kill you joint by joint if you try to fool us. Now then! 
Where are they? " 



THE CLUB-FOOTED GROCER 215 

** In my bedroom.'* 

"Where is that?" 

** The room above." 

"Whereabouts.?" 

** In the comer of the oak ark by the bed." 

The seamen all rushed to the stair, but the captain 
called them back. 

" We don't leave this cunning old fox behind us. Ha, 
your face drops at that, does it? By the Lord, I believe 
you are trying to slip your anchor. Here, lads, make him 
fast and take him along ! " 

With a confused trampling of feet they rushed up the 
stairs, dragging my uncle in the midst of them. For an 
instant I was alone. My hands were tied, but not my feet. 
If I could find my way across the moor I might rouse the 
police and intercept these rascals before they could reach 
the sea. For a moment I hesitated as to whether I should 
leave my uncle alone in such a plight. But I should be of 
more service to him — or, at the worst, to his property — 
if I went than if I stayed. I rushed to the hall door, and 
as I reached it I heard a yell above my head, a shattering, 
splintering noise, and then amid a chorus of shouts a huge 
weight fell with a horrible thud at my very feet. Never 
while I live will that squelching thud pass out of my ears. 
And there, just in front of me, in the lane of light cast 
by the open door, lay my unhappy uncle, his bald head 
twisted on to one shoulder, like the wrung neck of a 
chicken. It needed but a glance to see that his spine was 
broken and that he was dead. 

The gang of seamen had rushed downstairs so quickly, 
.that they were clustered at the door and crowding all 



216 THE CLUB-FOOTED GROCER 

round me almost as soon I had realized what had occurred. 

" It's no doing of ours, mate," said one of them to 
me. "He hove himself through the window, and that's 
the truth. Don't you put it down to us." 

** He thought he could get to windward of us if once 
he was out in the dark, you see," said another. "But he 
came head foremost and broke his bloomin' neck." 

*'And a blessed good job, too!" cried the chief, with 
a savage oath. " I'd have done it for him if he hadn't 
took the lead. Don't make any mistake, my lads, this is 
murder, and we're all in it, together. There's only one 
way out of it, and that is to hang together, unless, as the 
saying goes, you mean to hang apart. There's only one 
witness — " 

He looked at me with his malicious little eyes, and I saw 
that he had something that gleamed — either a knife or a 
revolver — in the breast of his pea-jacket. Two of the 
men slipped between us. 

" Stow that. Captain Elias," said one of them. *' If this 
old man met his end it is through no fault of ours. The 
worst we ever meant him was to take some of the skin off 
his back. But as to this young fellow, we have no quarrel 
with him — " 

" You fool, you may have no quarrel with him, but he 
has his quarrel with you. He'll swear your life away if 
you don't silence his tongue. It's his Kfe or ours, and 
don't you make any mistake." 

" Aye, aye, the skipper has the longest head of any 
of us. Better do what he tells you," cried another. 

But my champion, who was the fellow with the earrings, 
covered me with his own broad chest and swore roundly 



THE CLUB-FOOTED GROCER 217 

that no one should lay a finger on me. The others were 
equally divided, and my fate might have been the cause of 
a quarrel between them when suddenly the captain gave a 
cry of delight and amazement which was taken up by the 
whole gang. I followed their eyes and outstretched fingers, 
and this was what I saw. 

My uncle was lying with his legs outstretched, and the 
club foot was that which was farthest from us. All round 
this foot a dozen brilliant objects were twinkling and flash- 
ing in the yellow light which streamed from the open door. 
The captain caught up the lantern and held it to the place. 
The huge sole of hi& boot had been shattered in the fall, 
and it was clear now that it had been a hollow box in which 
he stowed his valuables, for the path was all sprinkled with 
precious stones. Three which I saw were of an unusual 
size, and as many as forty, I should think, of fair value. 
The seamen had cast themselves down and were greedily 
gathering them up, when my friend with the earrings 
plucked me by the sleeve. 

" Here's your chance, mate," he whispered. " Off you 
go before worse comes of it." 

It was a timely hint, and it did not take me long to act 
upon it. A few cautious steps and I had passed unob- 
served beyond the circle of light. Then I set off running, 
falling and rising and falling again, for no one who has 
not tried it can tell how hard it is to run over uneven 
ground with hands which are fastened together. I ran 
and ran, until for want of breath I could no longer put one 
foot before the other. But I need not have hurried so, for 
when I had gone a long way I stopped at last to breathe, 
and, looking back, I could still see the gleam of the lantern 



818 THE CLUB-FOOTED GROCER 

far away, and the outline of the seamen who squatted 
round it. Then at last this single point of light went 
suddenly out, and the whole great moor was left in the 
thickest darkness. 

So deftly was I tied, that it took me a long half -hour 
and a broken tooth before I got my hands free. My 
idea was to make my way across to the Purcell's farm, 
but north was the same as south under that pitchy sky, 
and for hours I wandered among the rustling, scuttling 
sheep without any certainty as to where I was going. 
When at last there came a glimmer in the east, and the 
undulating fells, gray with the morning mist, rolled once 
more to the horizon, I recognized that I was close by 
PurcelPs farm, and there a little in front of me I was 
startled to see another man walking in the same direction. 
At first I approached him warily, but before I overtook 
him I knew by the bent back and tottering step that it 
was Enoch, the old servant, and right glad I was to see 
that he was living. He had been knocked down, beaten, 
and his cloak and hat taken away by these ruffians, and 
all night he had wandered in the darkness, like myself, in 
search of help. He burst into tears when I told him of 
his master's death, and sat hiccoughing with the hard, dry 
sobs of an old man among the stones upon the moor. 

" It's the men of the Black Mogid,** he said. " Yes, yes, 
I knew that they would be the end of 'im." 

" Who are they? " I asked. 

" Well, well, you are one of 'is own folk," said he. ** 'E 
'as passed away; yes, yes, it is all over and done. I can 
tell you about it, no man better, but mum's the word with 
old Enoch unksg master wants 'im to speak. But his own 



THE CLUB-FOOTED GROCER 219 

nephew who came to 'elp 'im in the hour of need — yes, 
yes, Mister John, you ought to know. 

" It was like this, sir. Your uncle 'ad 'is grocer's busi- 
ness at Stepney, but 'e 'ad another business also. 'E would 
buy as well as sell, and when 'e bought 'e never asked no 
questions where the stuff came from. Why should 'e? It 
wasn't no business of 'is, was it? If folk brought him a 
stone or a silver plate, what was it to 'im where they 
got it? That's good sense, and it ought to be good 
law, as I 'old. Any'ow, it was good enough for us at 
Stepney. 

" Well, there was a steamer came from South Africa 
what foundered at sea. At least, they say so, and Lloyd's 
paid the money. She 'ad some very fine diamonds invoiced 
as being aboard of 'er. Soon after there came the brig 
Black Mogul into the port o' London, with 'er papers all 
right as 'avin' cleared from Port Elizabeth with a cargo of 
'ides. The captain, which 'is name was Elias, 'e came to 
see the master, and what d'you think that 'e 'ad to sell? 
Why, sir, as I'm a livin' sinner 'e 'ad a packet of diamonds 
for all the world just the same as what was lost out o' that 
there African steamer. 'Ow did 'e get them? I don't know. 
Master didn't know. 'E didn't seek to know either. The 
captain 'e was anxious for reasons of 'is own to get them 
safe, so 'e gave them to master, same as you might put a 
thing in a bank. But master 'e'd 'ad time to get fond of 
them, and 'e wasn't over satisfied as to where the Black 
Mogul 'ad been tradin', or where her captain 'ad got the 
stones, so when 'e come back for them the master 'e said as 
'e thought they were best in 'is own 'ands. Mind I don't 
'old with it myself, but that was what the master said to 



220 THE CLUB-FOOTED GHOCER 

Captain Ellas m the little back parlor at Stepney. That was 
'ow 'e got 'is leg broke and three of his ribs. 

'* So the captain got jugged for that, and the master, 
when 'e was able to get about, thought that 'e would 'ave 
peace for fifteen years, and 'e came away from London be- 
cause 'e was afraid of the sailor men ; but, at the end of five 
years, the captain was out and after 'im, with as many of 
'is crew as 'e could gather. Send for the perlice, you says ! 
Well, there are two sides to that, and the master 'e wasn't 
much more fond of the perlice than Ellas was. But they 
fair 'emmed master in, as you 'ave seen for yourself, and 
they bested 'im at last, and the loneliness that 'e thought 
would be 'is safety 'as proved 'is ruin. Well, well, 'e was 
'ard to many, but a good master to me, and it's long be- 
fore I come on such another." 

One word in conclusion. A strange cutter, which had 
been hanging about the coast, was seen to beat down the 
Irish Sea that morning, and it is conjectured that Ellas and 
his men were on board of it. At any rate, nothing has been 
heard of them since. It was shown at the Inquest that my 
uncle had lived in a sordid fashion for years, and he left 
little behind him. The mere knowledge that he possessed 
this treasure, which he carried about with him in so ex- 
traordinary a fashion, had appeared to be the joy of his 
life, and he had never, as far as we could learn, tried to 
realize any of his diamonds. So his disreputable name when 
living was not atoned for by any posthumous benevolence, 
and the family, equally scandalized by his life and by his 
death, have finally burled all memory of the club-footed 
grocer of Stepney. 



THE SEALED ROOM 

A SOLICITOR of an active habit and athletic tastes 
who is compelled by his hopes of business to re- 
main within the four walls of his office from ten 
till five must take what exercise he can in the evenings. 
Hence it was that I was in the habit of indulging in very 
long nocturnal excursions, in which I sought the heights of 
Hampstead and Highgate in order to cleanse my system 
from the impure air of Abchurch Lane. It was in the course 
of one of these aimless rambles that I first met Felix Stan- 
nif ord, and so led up to wTiat has been the most extraordi- 
nary adventure of my lifetime. 

One evening — it was in April or early May of the year 
1894* — I made my way to the extreme northern fringe of 
London, and was walking down one of those fine avenues of 
high brick villas which the huge city is for ever pushing 
farther and farther out into the country. It was a fine, 
clear spring night, the moon was shining out of an un- 
clouded sky, and I, having already left many miles behind 
me, was inclined to walk slowly and look about me. In this 
contemplative mood, my attention was arrested by one of 
the houses Which I was passing. 

It was a very large building, standing in its own grounds, 
a little back from the road. It was modern in appearance, 
and yet it was far less so than its neighbors, all of which 
were crudely and painfully new. Their symmetrical line 

221 



222 THE SEALED ROOM 

was broken by the gap caused by the laurel-studded lawn, 
with the great, dark, gloomy house looming at the back of 
it. Evidently it had been the country retreat of some 
wealthy merchant, built perhaps when the nearest street 
was a mile off, and now gradually overtaken and surrounded 
by the red brick tentacles of the London octopus. The next 
stage, I reflected, would be its digestion and absorption, so 
that the cheap builder might rear a dozen eighty-pound-a- 
year villas upon the garden frontage. And then, as all this 
passed vaguely through my mind, an incident occurred 
which brought my thoughts into quite another channeL 

A four-wheeled cab, that opprobrium of London, was 
coming jolting and creaking in one direction, while in the 
other there was a yellow glare from the lamp of a cyclist. 
They were the only moving objects in the whole long, moon- 
lit road, and yet they crashed into each other with that 
malignant accuracy which brings two ocean liners together 
in the broad waste of the Atlantic. It was the cyclist's fault. 
He tried to cross in front of the cab, miscalculated his dis- 
tance, and was knocked sprawling by the horse's shoulder. 
He rose, snarling ; the cabman swore back at him, and then, 
realizing that his number had not yet been taken, lashed his 
horse and lumbered off. The cyclist caught at the handles 
of his prostrate machine, and then suddenly sat down with 
a groan. " Oh, Lord ! " he said. 

I ran across the road to his side. " Any harm done? " I 
asked. 

" It's my ankle," said he. " Only a twist, I think ; but it's 
pretty painful. Just give me your hand, will you? " 

He lay in the yellow circle of the cycle lamp, and I noted 
as I helped him to his feet that he was a gentlemanly young 



THE SEALED ROOM 223 

fellow, with a slight dark mustache and large, brown eyes, 
sensitive and nervous in appearance, with indications of 
weak health upon his sunken cheeks. Work or worry had 
left its traces upon his thin, yellow face. He stood up when 
I pulled his hand, but he held one foot in the air, and he 
groaned as he moved it. 

" I can't put it to the ground," said he. 

" Where do you Kve? " 

" Here.'' He nodded his head towards the big, dark house 
in the garden. " I was cutting across to the gate when that 
confounded cab ran into me. Could you help me so far? " 

It was easily done. I put his cycle inside the gate, and 
then I supported him down the drive, and up the steps to 
the hall door. There was not a light anywhere, and the 
place was as black and silent as if no one had ever lived 
in it. 

" That will do. Thank you very much," said he, fum- 
bling with his key in the lock. 

" No, you must allow me to see you safe." 

He made some feeble, petulent protest, and then realized 
that he could really do nothing without me. The door had 
opened into a pitch-dark hall. He lurched forward, with 
my hand still on his arm. 

" This door to the right," said he, feeling about in the 
darkness. 

I opened the door, and at the same moment he managed 

to strike a light. There was a lamp upon the table, and we 

lit it between us. " Now, I'm all right. You can leave me 

now! Good-bye! " said he, and with the words he sat down 

'in the arm-chair and fainted dead away. 

It was a queer position for* me. The fellow looked so 



2S4 THE SEALED ROOM 

ghastly, that really I was not sure that he was not dead. 
Presently his lips quivered and his breast heaved, but his 
eyes were two white slits and his color was horrible. The re- 
sponsibility was more than I could stand. I pulled at the 
bell-rope, and heard the bell ringing furiously far away. 
But no one came in response. The bell tinkled away into 
silence which no murmur or movement came to break. I 
waited, and rang again, with the same result. There must 
be some one about. This young gentleman could not live 
all alone in that huge house. His people ought to know of 
his condition. If they would not answer the bell, I must 
hunt them out myself. I seized the lamp and rushed from 
the room. 

What I saw outside amazed me. The hall was empty. 
The stairs were bare, and yellow with dust. There were three 
doors opening into spacious rooms, and each was uncarpeted 
and undraped, save for the gray webs which drooped from 
the cornice, and rosettes of lichen which had formed upon 
the walls. My feet reverberated in those empty and silent 
chambers. Then I wandered on down the passage, with the 
idea that the kitchens, at least, might be tenanted. Some 
caretaker might lurk in some secluded room. No, they were 
all equally desolate. Despairing of finding any help, I ran 
down another corridor, and came on something which sur- 
prised me more than ever. 

The passage ended in a large, brown door, and the door 
had a seal of red wax the size of a five-shilling piece over the 
keyhole. This seal gave me the impression of having been 
there for a long time, for it was dusty and discolored. I was 
still staring at it, and wondering what that door might con- 
ceal, when I heard a voice calling behind me, and, running 



THE SEALED ROOM 225 

back, found my young man sitting up in his chair and very 
much astonished at finding himself in darkness. 

** Why on earth did you take the lamp away ? " he asked. 

*' I was looking for assistance." 

** You might look for some time," said he. " I am alone 
in the house." 

" Awkward if you get an illness." 

" It was foolish of me to faint. I inherit a weak heart 
from my mother, and pain or emotion has that effect upon 
me. It will carry me off some day, as it did her. You're not 
a doctor, are you? " 

" No, a lawyer. Frank Alder is my name." 

*' Mine is Felix Stanniford. Funny that I should meet a 
lawyer, for my friend, Mr. Perceval, was saying that we 
should need one soon." 

*' Very happy, I am sure." 

" Well, that will depend upon him, you know. Did you 
say that you had run with that lamp all over the ground 
floor? " 

« Yes." 

" All over it? " he asked, with emphasis, and he looked 
at me very hard. 

" I think so. I kept on hoping that I should find some- 
one." 

" Did you enter all the rooms ? " he asked, with the same 
intent gaze. 

« WeU, all that I could enter." 

** Oh, then you did notice it ! " said he, and he shrugged 
his shoulders with the air of a man who makes the best of a 
bad job. 

"Notice what?" 



286 THE SEALED ROOM 

" Why, the door with the seal on it.'* 

" Yes, I did.'' 

" Weren't you curious to know what was in it? " 

" WeD, it did strike me as unusual." 

** Do you think you could go on living alone in this 
house, year after year, just longing all the time to know 
what is at the other side of that door, and yet not looking? " 

*' Do you mean to say," I cried, " that you don't know 
yourself? " 

" No more than you do." 

" Then why don't you look? " 

" I mustn't," said he. 

He spoke in a constrained way, and I saw that I had 
blundered on to some delicate ground. I don't know that I 
am more inquisitive than my neighbors, but there certainly 
was something in the situation which appealed very strongly 
to my curiosity. However, my last excuse for remaining in 
the house was gone now that my companion had recovered 
his senses. I rose to go. 

" Are you in a hurry ? " he asked. 

" No ; I have nothing to do." 

" Well, I should be very glad if you would stay with me 
a little. The fact is that I live a very retired and secluded 
life here. I don't suppose there is a man in London who 
leads such a life as I do. It is quite unusual for me to have 
anyone to talk with." 

I looked round at»the little room, scantily furnished, with 
a sofa-bed at one side. Then I thought of the great, bare 
house, and the sinister door with the discolored red seal upon 
it. There was something queer and grotesque in the situa- 
tion, which made me long to know a little more. Perhaps I 



THE SEALED ROOM 227 

should, if I waited. I tol4 him that I should be very happy, 

**You will find the spirits and a siphon upon the side 
table. You must forgive me if I cannot act as host, but I 
can't get across the room. Those are cigars in the tray 
there. I'll take one myself, I think. And so you are a 
solicitor, Mr. AlderP '* 

« Yes.*' 

" And I am nothing. I am that most helpless of living 
creatures, the son of a millionaire. I was brought up with 
the expectation of great wealth ; and here I am, a poor iiian, 
without any profession at all. And then, on the top of it 
all, I am left with this great mansion on my hands, which 
I cannot possibly keep up. Isn't it an absurd situation? 
For me to use this as my dwelling is like a coster drawing 
his barrow with a thoroughbred. A donkey would be more 
useful to him, and a cottage to me." 

" But why not sell the house? " I asked. 

" I mustn't." 

"Let it, then?" 

" No, I musn't do that either." 

I looked puzzled, and my companion smiled. 

" I'll tell you how it is, if it won't bore you," said he. 

" On the contrary, I should be exceedingly interested." 

" I think, after your kind attention to me, I cannot do 
less than relieve any curiosity that you may feel. You must 
know that my father was Stanislaus Stanniford, the 
banker." 

Stanniford, the banker ! I remembered the name at once. 
His flight from the country some seven years before had 
been one of the scandals and sensations of the time. 

" I see that you remember," said my companion. " My 



228 THE SEALED ROOM 

poor father left the country to avoid numerous friends, 
whose savings he had invested in an unsuccessful specula- 
tion. He was a nervous, sensitive man, and the responsi- 
bility quite upset his reason. He had committed ho legal 
offence. It was purely a matter of sentiment. He would 
not even face his own family, and he died among strangers 
without ever letting us know where he was." 

"He died? "said I. 

** We could not prove his death, but we know that it must 
be so, because the speculations came right again, and so 
there was( no reason why he should not look any man in the 
face. He would have returned if he were alive. But he must 
have died in the last two years." 

" Why in the last two years? " 

** Because we heard from him two years ago." 

** Did he not tell you then where he was living? " 

*' The letter came from Paris, but no address was given. 
It was when my poor mother died. He wrote to me then, 
with some instructions and some advice, and I have never 
heard from him since." 

** Had you heard before? " 

" Oh, yes, we had heard before, and that's where our 
mystery of the sealed door, upon which you stumbled to- 
night, has its origin. Pass me that desk, if you please. 
Here I have my father's letters, and you are the first man 
except Mr. Perceval who has seen them." 

" Who is Mr. Perceval, may I ask? " 

** He was my father's confidential clerk, and he has con- 
tinued to be the friend and adviser of my mother and then 
of myself. I don't know what we should have done without 
Perceval. He saw the letters, but no one else. This is the 



THE SEALED ROOM 229 

first one, which came on the very day when my father fled, 
seven years ago. Read it to yourself.'' 
This is the letter which I read : — 

" My Evee Deaeest Wife, — 

" Since Sir William told me how weak your heart is, 
and how harmful any shock might be, I have never talked 
about my business affairs to you. The time has come when 
at all risks I can no longer refrain from telling you that 
things have been going badly with me. This will cause me 
to leave you for a little time, but it is with the absolute as- 
surance that we shall see each other very soon. On this you 
can thoroughly rely. Our parting is only for a very short 
time, my own darling, so don't let it fret you, and above all 
don't let it impair your health, for that is what I want 
above all things to avoid. 

" Now, I have a request to make, and I implore you by 
all that binds us together to fulfill it exactly as I tell you. 
There are some things which I do not wish to be seen by 
anyone in my dark room — the room which I use for pho- 
tographic purposes at the end of the garden passage. To 
prevent any painful thoughts, I may assure you once for 
all, dear, that it is nothing of which I need be ashamed. 
But still I do not wish you or Felix to enter that room. It is 
locked, and I implore you when you receive this to at once 
place a seal over the lock, and leave it so. Do not sell or 
let the house, for in either case my secret will be discovered. 
As long as you or Felix are in the house, I know that you 
will comply with my wishes. When Felix is twenty-one he 
may enter the room — not before. 

** And now, good-bye, my own best of wives. During 



280 THE SEALED ROOM 

our short separation you can consult Mr. Perceval on any 
matters which may arise. He has my complete confidence. 
I hate to leave Felix and you — even for a time — but there 
is really no choice. 

" Ever and always your loving husband, 

" Stanislaus Stanniford. 
" June 4th, 1887.'' 

"These are very private family matters for me to in- 
flict upon you," said my companion, apologetically. " You 
must look upon it as done in your professional capacity. I 
have wanted to speak about it for years.'' 

** I am honored by your confidence," I answered, '* and 
exceedingly interested by the facts." 

** My father was a man who was noted for his almost 
morbid love of truth. He was always pedantically accurate. 
When he said, therefore, that he hoped to see my mother 
very sopn, and when he said that he had nothing to be 
ashamed of in that dark room, you may rely upon it that 
he meant it." 

" Then what can it be? " I ejaculated. 

" Neither my mother nor I could imagine. We carried 
out his wishes to the letter, and placed the seal upon the 
door ; there it has been ever since. My mother lived for five 
years after my father's disappearance, although at the time 
all the doctors said that she could not survive long. Her 
heart was terribly diseased. During the first few months 
she had two letters from my father. Both had the Paris 
post-mark, but no address. They were short and to the 
same effect : that they would soon be reunited, and that she 
should not fret. Then there was a silence, which lasted until 



THE SEALED ROOM 231 

her death; and then came a letter to me of so private a 
nature that I cannot show it to you, begging me never to 
think evil of him, giving me much good advice, and saying 
that the sealing of the room was of less importance now 
than during the lifetime of my mother, but that the open- 
ing might still cause pain to others, and that, therefore, he 
thought it best that it should be postponed until my twenty- 
first year, for the lapse of time would make things easier. 
In the meantime, he committed the care of the room to me ; 
so now you can understand how it is that, although I am a 
very poor man, I can neither let nor sell this great house.'' 

** You could mortgage it." 

** My father had already done so.'' 

** It is a most singular state of afi^airs." 

** My mother and I were gradually compelled to sell 
the furniture and to dismiss the servants, until now, as you 
see, I am living unattended in a single room. But I have 
only two more months." 

** What do you mean? " 

**Why, that in two months I come of age. The first 
thing that I do will be to open that door; the second, to 
get rid of the house." 

** Why should your father have continued to stay away 
when these investments had recovered themselves? " 

" He must be dead." 

** You say that he had not committed any legal ofi^ence 
when he fled the country? " 

" None." 

** Why should he not take your mother with him ? " 

" I do not know." 

" Why should he conceal his address? " 



28« THE SEALED ROOM 

" I do not know." 

" Why should he allow your mother to die and be buried 
without coming back? '' 

" I do not know." 

" My dear sir," said I, " if I may speak with the frank- 
ness of a professional adviser, I should say that it is very 
clear that your father had the strongest reasons for keep- 
ing out of the country, and that, if nothing has been proved 
against him, he at least thought that something might be, 
and refused to put himself within the power of the law. 
Surely that must be obvious, for in what other possible way 
can the facts be explained? " 

My companion did not take my suggestion in good part. 

" You had not the advantage of knowing my father, Mr. 
Alder," he said, coldly. " I was only a boy when he left us, 
but I shall always look upon him as my ideal man. His 
only fault was that he was too sensitive and too unselfish. 
That anyone should lose money through him would cut 
him to the heart. His sense of honor was most acute, and 
any theory of his disappearance which conflicts with that 
is a mistaken one." 

It pleased me to hear the lad speak out so roundly, and 
yet I knew that the facts were against him, and that he was 
incapable of taking an unprejudiced view of the situation. 

" I only speak as an outsider," said I. " And now I must 
leave you, for I have a long walk before me. Your story 
has interested me so much that I should be glad if you 
could let me know the sequel." 

" Leave me your card," said he ; and so, having bade him 
" Good-night," I left him. 

I heard nothing more of the matter for some time, and 



THE SEALED ROOM 238 

had almost feared that it would prove to be one of those 
fleeting experiences which drift away from our direct ob- 
servation and end only in a hope or a suspicion. One after- 
noon, however, a card bearing the name of Mr. J. H. Per- 
ceval was brought up to my office in Abchurch Lane, and 
its bearer, a small dry, bright-eyed fellow of fifty, was 
ushered in by the clerk. 

** I believe, sir," said he, " that my name has been men- 
tioned to you by my young friend, Mr. Felix Stanniford.? " 

" Of course," I answered, " I remember." 

** He spoke to you, I understand, about the circumstances 
in connection with the disappearance of my former em- 
ployer, Mr. Stanislaus Stanniford, and the existence of a 
sealed room in his former residence." 

« He did." 

" And you expressed an interest in the matter." 

** It interested me extremely." 

" You are aware that we hold Mr. Stannif ord's permis- 
sion to open the door on the twenty-first birthday of his 
son?" 

** I remember." 

** The twenty-first birthday is to-day." 

** Have you opened it.^ " I asked, eagerly. 

** Not yet, sir," said he, gravely. ** I have reason to be- 
lieve that it would be well to have witnesses present when 
that door is opened. You are a lawyer, and you are ac- 
quainted with the facts. Will you be present on the occa- 
sion? " 

" Most certainly." 

" You are employed during the day, and so am I. Shall 
we meet at nine o'clock at the house? " 



«34 THE SEALED ROOM 

** I will coihe with pleasure.*' 

" Then you will find us waiting for you. Gk)od-byc, for 
the present." He bowed solemnly, and took his leave. 

I kept my appointment that evening, with a brain i^hich 
was weary with fruitless attempts to think out some plausi- 
ble explanation of the mystery which we were about to solve. 
Mr. Perceval and my young acquaintance were waiting for 
me in the little room. I was not surprised to see the young 
man looking pale and nervous, but I was rather astonished 
to find the dry little city man in a state of intense, though 
partially suppressed, excitement. His cheeks were flushed, 
his hands twitching, and he could not stand still for an in- 
stant. 

Stannif ord greeted me warmly, and thanked me many 
times for having come. " And now, Perceval," said he to 
his companion, '^ I suppose there is no obstacle to our put- 
ting the thing through without delay? I shall be glad to get 
it over." 

The banker's clerk took up the lamp and led the way. 
But he paused in the passage outside the door, and his 
hand was shaking, so that the light flickered up and down 
the high, bare walls. 

" Mr. Stannif ord," said he, in a cracking voice, " I hope 
you will prepare yourself in case any shock should be await- 
ing you when that seal is removed and the door is opened." 

"What could there be, Perceval? You are trying to 
frighten me." 

**No, Mr. Stannif ord; but I should wish you to be 
ready ... to be braced up • . . not to allow yourself 
. . ." He had to lick his dry lips between every jerky sen- 
tence, and I suddenly realized, as clearly as if he had told 



THE SEALED ROOM «35 

me, that he knew what was behind that closed door, and that 
it WM something terrible. " Here are the keys, Mr. Stan- 
nif ord, but remember my warning ! '* 

He had a bunch of assorted keys in his hand, and the 
young man snatched them from him. Then he thrust a 
knife under the discolored red seal and jerked it off. The 
lamp was rattling and shaking in Perceval's hands, so I took 
it from him and held it near the keyhole, while Stanniford 
tried key after key. At last one turned in the lock, the door 
flew open, he took one step into the room, and then, with a 
horrible cry, the young man fell senseless at our feet. 

If I had not given heed to the clerk's warning, and braced 
myself for a shock, I should certainly have dropped the 
lamp. The room, windowless and bare, was fitted up as a 
photographic laboratory, with a tap and sink at the side 
of it. A shelf of bottles and measures stood at one side, and 
a peculiar, heavy smell, partly chemical, partly animal, 
filled the air. A single table and chair were in front of us, 
and at this, with his back turned towards us, a man was 
seated in the act of writing. His outline and attitude were 
as natural as life ; but as the light fell upon him, it made 
my hair rise to see that the nape of his neck was black and 
wrinkled, and no thicker than my wrist. Dust lay upon him 
— thick, yellow dust — upon his hair, his shoulders, his 
shriveled, lemon-colored hands. His head had fallen for- 
ward upon his breast. His pen still rested upon a discol- 
ored sheet of paper. 

" My poor master ! My poor, poor master ! '' cried the 
clerk, and the tears were running down his cheeks. 

"What!" I cried, "Mr. Stanislaus Stanniford!" 

** Here he has sat for seven years. Oh, why would he do 



836 THE SEALED ROOM 

it? I begged him, I implored him, I went on my knees to 
him, but he would have his way. You see the key on the 
table. He had locked the door upon the inside. And he has 
written something. We must take it." 

** Yes, yes, take it, and for God's sake, let us get out of 
this,'' I cried ; ** the air is poisonous. Come, Stannif ord, 
come ! '* Taking an arm each, we half led and half carried 
the terrified man back to his own room. 

" It was my father ! '' he cried, as he recovered his con- 
sciousness. ** He is sitting there dead in his chair. You 
knew it, Perceval! This was what you meant when you 
warned me." 

" Yes, I knew it, Mr. Stannif ord. I have acted for the 
best all long, but my position has been a terribly difficult 
one. For seven years I have known that your father was 
dead in that room." 

" You knew it, and never told us ! " 

" Don't be harsh with me, Mr. Stannif ord, sir ! Make al- 
lowance for a man who has had a hard part to play." 

" My head is swimming round. I cannot grasp it ! " He 
staggered up, and helped himself from the brandy bottle. 
** These letters to my mother and to myself — were they 
forgeries ? " 

** No, sir ; your father wrote them and addressed them, 
and left them in my keeping to be posted. I have followed 
his instructions to the very letter in all things. He was my 
master, and I have obeyed him." 

The brandy had steadied the young man's shaken nerves. 
" Tell me about it. I can stand it now," said he. 

" Well, Mr. Stannif ord, you know that at one time there 
came a period of great trouble upon your father, and he 



THE SEALED ROOM 237 

thought that many poor people were about to lose their 
savings through his fault. He was a man who was so tender- 
hearted that he could not beiar the thought. It worried him 
and tormented him, until he determined to end his life. 
Oh, Mr. Stanniford, if you knew how I have prayed him 
and wrestled with him over it, you would never blame me! 
And he in turn prayed me as no man has ever prayed me 
before. He had made up his mind, and he would do it in 
any case, he said; but it rested with me whether his death 
should be happy and easy or whether it should be most 
miserable. I read in his eyes that he meant what he said. 
And at last I yielded to his prayers, and I consented to do 
his will. 

"What was troubling him was this. He had been told 
by the first doctor in London that his wife's heart would fail 
at the slightest shock. He had a horror of accelerating her 
end, and yet his own existence had become unendurable to 
him. How could he end himself without injuring her? 

** You know now the course that he took. He wrote the 
letter which she received. There was nothing in it which 
was not literally true. When he spoke of seeing her again 
so soon, he was referring to her own approaching death, 
which he had been assured could not be delayed more than a 
very few months. So convinced was he of this, that he only 
left two letters to be forwarded at intervals after his death. 
She lived five years, and I had no letters to send. 

" He left another letter with me to be sent to you, sir, 
upon the occasion of the death of your mother. I posted all 
these in Paris to sustain the idea of his being abroad. It 
was his wish that I should say nothing, and I have said 
nothing. I have been a faithful servant. Seven years after 



288 THE SEALED ROOM 

his death, he thought no doubt that the shock to the feel- 
ings of his surviving friends would be lessened. He was al- 
ways considerate for others." 

There was silence for some time. It was broken by young 
Stanniford. 

** I cannot blame you, Perceval. You have spared my 
mother a shock, which would certainly have broken her 
heart. What is that paper? '' 

^^ It is what your father was writing, sir. Shall I read it 
to you?" 

" Do so," 

** *I have taken the poison, and I feel it working in my, 
veins. It is strange, but not painful. When these words are 
read I shall, if my wishes have been faithfully carried out, 
have been dead many years. Surely no one who has lost 
money through me will still bear me animosity. And you, 
Felix, you will forgive me this family scandal. May God 
find rest for a sorely wearied spirit ! * " 

** Amen ! " we cried, all three. 



THE BRAZILIAN CAT 

IT IS hard luck on a young fellow to have expensive 
tastes, great expectations, aristocratic connections, 
but no actual money in his pocket, and no profes- 
sion by which he may earn any. The fact was that my 
father, a good, sanguine, easy-going man, had such confi- 
dence in the wealth and benevolence of his bachelor elder 
brother. Lord Southerton, that he took it for granted that 
I, his only son, would never be called upon to earn a living 
for myself. He imagined that if there were not a vacancy 
for me on the great Southerton Estates, at least there would 
be. found some post in that diplomatic service which still re- 
mains the special preserve of our privileged classes. He 
died too early to realize how false his calculations had been. 
Neither my uncle nor the State took the slightest notice of 
me, or showed any interest in my career. An occasional 
brace of pheasants, or basket of hares, was all that ever 
reached me to remind me that I was heir to Otwell House 
and one of the richest estates in the country. In the mean- 
time, I found myself a bachelor and man about town, living 
in a suite of apartments in Grosvenor Mansions, with no oc- 
cupation save that of pigeon-shooting and polo-playing at 
Hurlingham. Month by month I realized that it was more 
and more difficult to get the brokers to renew my bills, or 
to cash any further post-obits upon an unentailed property. 

239 



840 THE BRAZILIAN CAT 

Ruin lay right across my path, and every day I saw ii 
clearer, nearer, and more absolutely unavoidable. 

What made me feel my own poverty the more was that, 
apart from the great wealth of Lord Southerton, all my 
other relations were fairly well-to-do. The nearest of these 
was Everard King, my father's nephew and my own first 
cousin, who had spent an adventurous life in Brazil, and had 
now returned to this country to settle down on his fortune. 
We never knew how he made his money, but he appeared to 
have plenty of it, for he bought the estate of Graylands, 
near Clipton-on-the-Marsh, in Suffolk. For the first year 
of his residence in England he took no more notice of me 
than my miserly uncle ; but at last one summer morning, to 
my very great relief and joy, I received a letter asking me 
to come down that very day and spend a short visit at Gray- 
lands Court. I was expecting a rather long visit to Bank- 
ruptcy Court at the time, and this interruption seemed al- 
most providential. If I could only get on terms with this 
unknown relative of mine, I might pull through yet. For 
the family credit he could not let me go entirely to the wall. 
I ordered my valet to pack my valise, and I set off the same 
evening for Clipton-on-the-Marsh. 

After changing at Ipswich, a little local train deposited 
me at a small, deserted station lying amidst a rolling grassy 
country, with a sluggish and winding river curving in and 
out amidst the valleys, between high, silted banks, which 
showed that we were within reach of the tide. No carriage 
was awaiting me (I found afterwards that my telegram had 
been delayed), so I hired a dog-cart at £he local inn. The 
driver, an excellent fellow, was full of my relative's praises, 
and I learned from him that Mr. Everard King was already, 



THE BRAZILIAN CAT 241 

a name to conjure with in that part of the country. He had 
entertained the school-children, he had thrown his grounds 
open to visitors, he had subscribed to charities — in short, 
his benevolence had been so universal that my driver could 
only account for it on the supposition that he had Parlia- 
mentary ambitions. 

My attention was drawn away from my driver's pan- 
egyric by the appearance of a very beautiful bird which 
settled on a telegraph-post beside the road. At first I 
thought that it was a jay, but it was larger, with a brighter 
plumage. The driver accounted for its presence at once by 
saying that it belonged to the very man whom we were 
about to visit. It seems that the acclimatization of foreign 
creatures was one of his hobbies, and that he had brought 
with him from Brazil a number of birds and beasts which 
he was endeavoring to rear in England. When once we had 
passed the gates of Graylands Park we had ample evidence 
of this taste of his. Some small spotted deer, a curious wild 
pig known, I believe, as a pecca.ry, a gorgeously feathered 
oriole, some sort of armadillo, and a singular lumbering 
intoed beast like a very fat badger, were among the crea- 
tures, which I observed as we drove along the winding ave- 
nue. 

Mr. Everard King, my unknown cousin, was standing in 
person upon the steps of his house, for he had seen us in 
the distance, and guessed that it was I. His appearance was 
very homely and benevolent, short and stout, forty-five 
years old perhaps, with a round, good-humored face, 
burned brown with the tropical sun, and shot with a thou- 
sand wrinkles. He wore white linen clothes, in true planter 
style, with a cigar between his lips, and a large Panama 



242 THE BRAZILIAN CAT 

hat upon the back of his head. It was such a figure as one 
associates with a verandahed bungalow, and it looked curi- 
ously out of place in front of this broad, stone English 
mansion, with its solid wings and its Falladio pillars before 
the doorway. 

" My dear ! " he cried, glancing over his shoulder ; ** my 
dear, here is our guest! Welcome, welcome to Graylands! 
I am delighted to make your acquaintance. Cousin Marshall, 
and I take it as a great compliment that you should honor 
this sleepy little country place with your presence.'* 

Nothing could be more hearty than his manner, and he 
set me at my ease in an instant. But it needed all his 
cordiality to atone for the frigidity and even rudeness of 
his wife, a tall, haggard woman, who came forward at his 
summons. She was, I believe, of Brazilian extraction, 
though she spoke excellent English, and I excused her man- 
ners on the score of her ignorance of our customs. She did 
not attempt to conceal, however, either then or afterwards, 
that I was no very welcome visitor at Graylands Court. 
Her actual words were, as a rule, courteous, but she was the 
possessor of a pair of particularly expressive dark eyes, 
and I read in them very clearly from the first that she 
heartily wished me back in London once more. 

However, my debts were too pressing and my designs 
upon my wealthy relative were too vital for me to allow 
them to be upset by the ill-temper of his wife, so I disre- 
garded her coldness and reciprocated the extreme cordiality 
of his welcome. No pains had been spared by him to make 
me comfortable. My room was a charming one. He im- 
plored me to tell him anything which could add to my hap- 
piness. It was on the tip of my tongue to inform him that 



THE BRAZILIAN CAT 248 

a blank cheque would materially help towards that end, but 
I felt that it might be premature in the present state of our 
acquaintance. The dinner was excellent, and as we sat to- 
gether afterwards over his Havanas and coffee, which latter 
he told me was specially prepared upon his own plantation, 
it seemed to me that all my driver's eulogies were justified, 
and that I had never met a more large-hearted and hospit- 
able man. 

But, in spite of his cheery good nature, he was a man 
with a strong will and a fiery temper of his own. Of this I 
had an example upon the following morning. The curious 
aversion which Mrs. Everard King had conceived towards 
me was so strong, that her manner at breakfast was almost 
offensive. But her meaning became unmistakable when her 
husband had quitted the room. 

" The best train in the day is at twelve fifteen," said 
she. 

" But I was not thinking of going to-day," I answered, 
frankly — perhaps even defiantly, for I was determined not 
to be driven out by this woman. 

" Oh, if it rests with you — " said she, and stopped, with 
a most insolent expression in her eyes. 

" I am sure," I answered, " that Mr. Everard King 
would tell me if I were outstaying my welcome." 

" What's this? What's this? " said a voice, and there he 
was in the room. He had overheard my last words, and a 
glance at our faces had told him the rest. In an instant his 
chubby, cheery face set into an expression of absolute 
ferocity. 

" Might I trouble you to walk outside, Marshall," said 
he. (I may mention that my own name is Marshall King.) 



S44 THE BRAZILIAN CAT 

He closed the door behind me, and then, for an Instant, I 
heard him talking In a low voice of concentrated passion to 
his wife. This gross breach of hospitality had evidently hit 
upon his tenderest point. I am no eavesdropper, so I walked 
out on to the lawn. Presently I heard a hurried step behind 
me, and there was the lady, her face pale with excitement, 
and her eyes red with tears. 

" My husband has asked me to apologize to you, Mr. 
Marshall King," said she, standing with downcast eyes be- 
fore me. 

" Please do not say another word, Mrs. King.'' 

Her dark eyes suddenly blazed out at me. 

" You fool ! " she hissed, with frantic vehemence, and 
turning on her heel swept back to the house. 

The insult was so outrageous, so Insufferable, that I 
could only stand staring after her in bewilderment. I was 
still there when my host joined me. He was his cheery, 
chubby self once more. 

*' I hope that my wife has apologized for her foolish re- 
marks," said he. 

** Oh, yes — yes, certainly ! " 

He put his hand through my arm and walked with me 
up and down the lawn. 

" You must not take it seriously," said he. " It would 
grieve me inexpressibly if you curtailed your visit by one 
hour. The fact is — there is no reason why there should be 
any concealment between relatives — that my poor dear 
wife is incredibly jealous. She hates that anyone — male 
or female — should for an instant come between us. Her 
ideal is a desert Island and an eternal tete-h-tete. That 
gives you the clue to her actions, which are, I confess, upon 



THE BRAZILIAN CAT 246 

this particular point, not very far removed from mania. 
Tell me that you will think no more of it." 

" No, no ; certainly not." 

" Then light this cigar and come round with me and see 
my little menagerie." 

The whole afternoon was occupied by this inspection, 
which included all the birds, beasts, and even reptiles which 
he had imported. Some were free, some in cages, a few 
actually in the house. He spoke with enthusiasm of his 
successes and his failures, his births and his deaths, and he 
would cry out in his delight, like a schoolboy, when, as we 
walked, some gaudy bird would flutter up from the grass, 
or some curious beast slink into the cover. Finally he led 
me down a corridor which extended from one wing of the 
house. At the end of this there was a heavy door with a 
sliding shutter in it, and beside it there projected from the 
wall an iron handle attached to a wheel and a drum. A line 
of stout bars extended across the passage. 

** I am about to show you the jewel of my collection," 
said he. *' There is only one other specimen in Europe, now 
that the Rotterdam cub is dead. It is a Brazilian cat." 

" But how does that differ from any other cat? " 

" You will soon see that," said he, laughing. " Will you 
kindly draw that shutter and look through? " 

I did so, and found that I was gazing into a large, 
empty room, with stone flags, and small, barred windows 
upon the farther wall. 

In the center of this room, lying in the middle of a golden 
patch of sunlight, there was stretched a huge creature, as 
large as a tiger, but as black and sleek as ebony. It was 
simply a very enormous and very well-kept black cat, and 



«46 THE BRAZILIAN CAT 

it cuddled up and basked in that yellow pool of light ex- 
actly as a cat would do. It was so graceful, so sinewy, and 
so gently and smoothly diabolical, that I could not take 
my eyes from the opening. 

** Isn't he splendid? '' said my host, enthusiastically. 

** Glorious ! I never saw such a noble creature." 

*' Some people call it a black puma, but really it is not a 
puma at all. That fellow is nearly eleven feet from tail to 
tip. Four years ago he was a little ball of black fluff, with 
two yellow eyes staring out of it. He was sold me as a 
new-born cub up in the wild country at the head-waters of 
the Rio Negro. They speared his mother to death after 
she had killed a dozen of them." 

" They are ferocious, then? " 

" The most absolutely treacherous and blood-thirsty 
creatures upon earth. You talk about a Brazilian cat to an 
up-country Indian, and see him get the jumps. They pre- 
fer humans to game. This fellow has never tasted living 
blood yet, but when he does he will be a terror. At present 
he won't stand anyone but me in his den. Even Baldwin, the 
groom, dare not go near him. As to me, I am his mother 
and father in one." 

As he spoke he suddenly, to my astonishment, opened the 
door and slipped in, closing It instatitty behind him. At 
the sound of his voice the huge, lithe creature rose, yawned, 
and rubbed its round, black head affectionately against his 
side, while he patted and fondled it. 

" Now, Tommy, into your cage ! " said he. 

The monstrous cat walked over to one side of the room 
and coiled itself up under a grating. Everard King came 
out, and taking the iron handle which I have mentioned, he 



THE BRAZILIAN CAT 247 

began to turn it. As he did so the line of bars in the corridor 
began to pass through a slot in the wall and closed up the 
front of this grating, so as to make an effective cage. 
When it was in position he opened the door once more and 
invited me into the room, which was heavy with the pun- 
gent, musty smell peculiar to the great carnivora. 

" That's how we work it," said he. " We give him the 
run of the room for exercise, and then at night we put him 
in his cage. You can let him out by turning the handle 
from the passage, or you can, as you have seen, coop him 
up in the same way. No, no, you should not do that ! " 

I had put my hand between the bars to pat the glossy, 
heaving flank. He pulled it back, with a serious face. 

" I assure you that he is not safe. Don't imagine that 
because I can take liberties with him anyone else can. He 
is very exclusive in his friends — aren't you. Tommy? Ah, 
he hears his lunch coming to him! Don't you, boy? " 

A step sounded in the stone-flagged passage, and the 
creature had sprung to his feet, and was pacing up and 
down the narrow cage, his yellow eyes gleaming, and his 
scarlet tongue rippling and quivering over the white line 
of his jagged teeth. A groom entered with a coarse joint 
upon a tray and thrust it through the bars to him. He 
pounced lightly upon it, carried it off to the comer, and 
there, holding it between his paws, tore and wrenched at it, 
raising his bloody muzzle every now and then to look at us. 
It was a malignant and yet fascinating sight. 

" You can't wonder that I am fond of him, can you? " 
said my host, as we left the room, "especially when you 
consider that I have had the rearing of him. It was no joke 
bringing him over from the center of South America ; but 



248 THE BRAZILIAN CAT 

here he is safe and sound — and, as I have said, far the 
most perfect specimen in Europe. The people at the Zoo 
are dying to have him, but I really can't part with him. 
Now, I think that I have inflicted my hobby upon you 
long enough, so we cannot do better than follow Tommy's 
example, and go to our lunch.'' 

My South American relative was so engrossed by his 
grounds and their curious occupants, that I hardly gave 
him credit at first for having any interests outside them. 
That he had some, and pressing ones, was soon borne in 
upon me by the number of telegrams which he received. 
They arrived at all hours, and were always opened by him 
with the utmost eagerness and anxiety upon his face. 
Sometimes I imagined that it must be the turf, and some- 
times the Stock Exchange, but certainly he had some very 
urgent business going forward which was not transacted 
upon the Dot^tis of Suffolk. During the six days of my 
visit he had never fewer than three or four telegrams a 
day, and sometimes as many as seven or eight. 

I had occupied these six days so well, that by the end 
of them I had succeeded in getting upon the most cordial 
terms with my cousin. Every night we had sat up late 
in the biUiard-room, he telling me the most extraordinary 
stories of his adventures in America — stories so desperate 
and reckless, that I could hardly associate them with the 
brown little chubby man before me. In return, I ventured 
upon some of my own reminiscences of London life, which 
interested him so much, that he vowed he would come up 
to Grosvenor Mansions and stay with me. He was anxious 
to see the faster side of city life, and certainly, though I 
say it, he could not have chosen a more competent guide. 



THE BRAZILIAN CAT 249 

It was not until the last day of my visit that I ventured to 
approach that which was on my mind. I told him frankly 
about my pecuniary difficulties and my impending ruin, 
and I asked his advice — though I hoped for something 
more solid. He listened attentively, puffing hard at his 
cigar. 

" But surely," said he, " you are the heir of our rela- 
tive, Lord Southerton? " 

" I have every reason to believe so, but he would never 
make me any allowance." 

*' No, no, I have heard of his miserly ways. My poor 
Marshall, your position has been a very hard one. By the 
way, have you heard any news of Lord Southerton's health 
lately?" 

" He has always been in a critical condition ever since my 
childhood." 

" Exactly — a creaking hinge, if ever there was one. 
Your inheritance may be a long way off. Dear me, how 
awkwardly situated you are ! " 

*' I had some hopes, sir, that you, knowing aU the facts, 
might be inclined to advance — " 

** Don't say another word, my dear boy," he cried, 
with the utmost cordiality ; " we shall talk it over to-night, 
and I give you my word that whatever is in my power 
shall be done." 

I was not sorry that my visit was drawing to a close, 
for it is unpleasant to feel that there is one person in the 
house who eagerly desires your departure. Mrs. King's 
sallow face and forbidding eyes had become more and more 
hateful to me. She was no longer actively rude — her fear 
of her husband prevented her — but she pushed her insane 



860 THE BRAZILIAN CAT 

jealousy to the extent of ignoring me, never addressing me, 
and in every way making my stay at Greylands as uncom- 
fortable as she could. So offensive was her manner during 
that last day that I should certainly have left had it not 
been for that interview with my host in the evening which 
would, and I hoped, retrieve my broken fortunes. 

It was very late when it occurred, for my relative, who 
had been receiving even more telegrams than usual during 
the day, went off to his study after dinner, and only 
emerged when the household had retired to bed. I heard him 
go round locking the doors, as his custom was of a night, 
and finally he joined me in the billiard-room. His stout 
figure was wrapped in a dressing-gown, and he wore a pair 
of red Turkish slippers without any heels. Settling down 
into an arm-chair, he brewed himself a glass of grog, in 
which I could not help noticing that the whisky consider- 
ably predominated over the water. 

" My word ! '' said he, ** what a night ! " 

It was, indeed. The wind was howling and screaming 
round the house, and the latticed windows rattled and 
shook as if they were coming in. The glow of the yellow 
lamps and the flavor of our cigars seemed the brighter and 
more fragrant for the contrast. 

" Now, my boy,'' said my host, ** we have the house 
and the night to ourselves. Let me have an idea of how 
your affairs stand, and I will see what can be done to set 
them in order. I wish to hear every detail." 

Thus encouraged, I entered into a long exposition, in 
which all my tradesmen and creditors, from my landlord 
to my valet, figured in turn. I had notes in my pocket- 



THE BRAZILIAN CAT 251 

book, and I marshaled my facts, and gave, I flatter myself, 
a very business-like statement of my own unbusiness- 
like ways and lamentable position. I was depressed, how- 
ever, to notice that my companion's eyes were vacant and 
his attention elsewhere. When he did occasionally throw 
out a remark, it was so entirely perfunctory and pointless 
that I was sure he had not in the least followed my re- 
marks. Every now and then he roused, himself and put on 
some show of interest, asking me to repeat or to explain 
more fully, but it was always to sink once more into the 
same brown study. At last he rose and threw the end of 
his cigar into the grate. 

" I'll tell you what, my boy," said he. " I never had a 
head for figures, so you will excuse me. You must jot it 
all down upon paper, and let me have a note of the amount. 
I'll understand it when I see it in black and white." 

The proposal was encouraging. I promised to do so. 

** And now it's time we were in bed. By Jove, there's 
one o'clock striking in the hall." 

The tinging of the chiming clock broke through the 
deep roar of the gale. The wind was sweeping past with 
the rush of a great river. 

" I must see my cat before I go to bed," said my host. 
"A high wind excites him. Will you come?" 

« Certainly," said I. 

" Then tread softly and don't speak, for everyone is 
asleep." 

We passed quietly down the lamp-lit Persian-rugged 
hall, and through the door at the farther end. All was 
dark in the stone corridor, but a stable lantern hung on 



S5« THE BRAZILIAN CAT 

a hook, and my host took it down and lit it. There was 
no grating visible in the passage, so I knew that the beast 
was in its cage. 

" Come in ! " said my relative, and opened the door. 

A deep growling as we entered showed that the storm 
had really excited the creature. In the flickering light of 
the lantern, we saw it, a huge black mass, coiled in the 
comer of its den and throwing a squat, uncouth shadow 
upon the whitewashed wall. Its tail switched angrily among 
the straw. 

" Poor Tommy is not in the best of tempers,*' said 
Everard King, holding up the lantern and looking in at 
him. *'What a black devil he looks, doesn't he? I must 
give him a little supper to put him in a better humor. 
Would you mind holding the lantern for a moment? " 

I took it from his hand and he stepped to the door. 

** His larder is just outside here,'' said he. *' You will 
excuse me for an instant, won't you? " He passed out, and 
the dooT-fihut with a sharp metallic click behin d him^ 

That hard crisp sound made my heart stand still. A 
sudden wave of terror passed over me. A vague perception 
of some monstrous treachery turned me cold. I sprang 
to the door, but there was no handle upon the inner 
side. 

" Here ! " I cried. " Let me out !" 

" All right ! Don't make a row ! " said my host from the 
passage. "You've got the light all right.' 

" Yes, but I don't care about being locked in alone like 
this." 

"Don't you?" I heard his hearty, chuckling laugh. 
" You won't be alone long." 



THE BRAZILIAN CAT 263 



ti ' 



' Let me out, sir ! " I repeated angrily. " I tell you 
I don't allow practical jokes of this sort." 

" Practical is the word," said he, with another hateful 
chuckle. And then suddenly I heard, amidst the roar of 
the storm, the creak and whine of the winch-handle turn- 
ing, and the rattle of the grating as it passed through the 
slot. Great God, he was letting loose the Brazilian cat ! 

In the light of the lantern I saw the bars sliding slowly 
before me. Already there was an opening a foot wide at 
the farther end. With a scream I seized the last bar with 
my hands and pulled with the strength of a madman. I 
was a madman with rage and horror. For a minute or more 
I held the thing motionless. I knew that he was straining 
with all his force upon the handle, and that the leverage 
was sure to overcome me. I gave inch by inch, my feet 
sliding along the stones, and all the time I begged and 
prayed this inhuman monster to save me from this hor- 
rible death. I conjured him by his kinship. I reminded 
him that I was his guest; I begged to know what harm 
I had ever done him. His only answers were the tugs and 
jerks upon the handle, each of which, in spite of all my 
struggles, pulled another bar through the opening. Cling- 
ing and clutching, I was dragged across the whole front 
of the cage, until at last, with aching wrists and lacerated 
fingers, I gave up the hopeless struggle. The grating 
clanged back as I released it, and an instant later I heard 
the shuffle of the Turkish slippers in the passage, and the 
slam of the distant door. Then everything was silent. 

The creature had never moved during this time. He lay 
still in the comer, and his tail had ceased switching. This 
apparition of a man adhering to his bars and dragged 



254 THE BRAZILIAN CAT 

screaming across him had apparently filled him with amaze- 
ment. I saw his great eyes staring steadily at me. I had 
dropped the lantern when I seized the bars, but it still 
burned upon the floor, and I made a movement to grasp it, 
with some idea that its light might protect me. But the 
instant I moved, the beast gave a deep and menacing growl. 
I stopped and stood still, quivering with fear in every limb. 
The cat (if one may call so fearful a creature by so homely 
a name) was not more than ten feet from me. The eyes 
glimmered like two discs of phosphorus in the darkness. 
They appalled and yet fascinated me. I could not take my 
own eyes from them. Nature plays strange tricks with us 
at such moments of intensity, and those glimmery lights 
waxed and waned with a steady rise and fall. Sometimes 
they seemed to be tiny points of 'extreme brilliancy — lit- 
tle electric sparks in the black obscurity — then they would 
widen and widen until all that corner of the room was 
filled with their shifting and sinister light. And then sud- 
denly they went out altogether. 

The beast had closed its eyes. I do not know whether 
there may be any truth in the old idea of the dominance 
of the human gaze, or whether the huge cat was simply 
drowsy, but the fact remains that, far from showing any 
symptom of attacking me, it simply rested its sleek, black 
head upon its huge forepaws and seemed to sleep. I stood, 
fearing to move lest I should rouse it into malignant life 
once more. But at least I was able to think clearly now 
that the baleful eyes were off me. Here I was shut up for 
the night with the ferocious beast. My own instincts, to 
say nothing of the words of the plausible villain who laid 
this trap for me, warned me that the animal was as savage 



THE BRAZILIAN CAT 256 

as its master. How could I stave it off until morning? 
The door was hopeless, and so were the narrow, barred 
windows. There was no shelter anywhere in the bare, stone- 
flagged room. To cry for assistance was absurd. I knew 
that this den was an outhouse, and that the corridor whicK 
connected it with the house was at least a hundred feet 
long. Besides, with that gale thundering outside, my cries 
were not likely to be heard. I had only my own courage 
and my own wits to trust to. 

And then, with a fresh wave of horror, my eyes fell 
upon the lantern. The candle had burned low, and was al- 
ready beginning to gutter. In ten minutes it would be out. 
I had only ten minutes then in which to do something, for 
I felt that if I were once left in the dark with that fearful 
beast I should be incapable of action. The very thought 
of it paralyzed me. I cast my despairing eyes round this 
chamber of death, and they rested upon one spot which 
seemed to promise — I will not say safety, but less immediate 
and imminent danger than the open floor. 

I have said that the cage had a top as well as a front, 
and this top was left standing when the front was wound 
through the slot in the wall. It consisted of bars at a few 
inches' interval, with stout wire netting between, and it 
rested upon a strong stanchion at each end. It stood now 
as a great barred canopy over the crouching figure in the 
comer. The space between this iron shelf and the roof 
may have been from two to three feet. If I could only 
get up there, squeezed in between bars and ceiling, I should 
have only one vulnerable side. I should be safe from be- 
low, from behind, and from each side. Only on the open 
face of it could I be attacked. There, it is true, I had no 



256 THE BRAZILIAN CAT 

protection whatever; but, at least, I should be out of the 
brute's path when he began to pace about his den. He 
would have to come out of his way to reach me. It was now 
or never, for if once the light were out it would be im- 
possible. With a gulp in my throat I sprang up, seized 
the iron edge of the top, and swung myself panting on 
to it. I writhed in face downwards, and found myself 
looking straight into the terrible eyes and yawning jaws 
of the cat. Its fetid breath came up into my face like 
the steam from some foul pot. 

It appeared, however, to be rather curious than angry. 
With a sleek ripple of its long, black back it rose, stretched 
itself, and then rearing itself on its hind legs, with one 
fore paw against the wall, it raised the other, and drew its 
claws across the wire meshes beneath me. One sharp, white 
hook tore through my trousers — for I may mention that 
I was still in evening dress — and dug a furrow in my 
knee. It was not meant as an attack, but rather as an 
experiment, for upon my giving a sharp cry of pain he 
dropped down again, and springing lightly into the room, 
he began walking swiftly round It, looking up every now 
and again In my direction. For my part I shuffled back- 
wards until I lay with my back against the wall, screwing 
myself Into the smallest space possible. The farther I got 
the more difficult it was for him to attack me. 

He seemed more excited now that he had begun to move 
about, and he ran swiftly and noiselessly round and round 
the den, passing continually underneath the iron couch 
upon which I lay. It was wonderful to see so great a 
bulk passing like a shadow, with hardly the softest thud- 
ding of velvety pads. The candle was burning low — so 



THE BRAZILIAN CAT 257 

low that I could hardly see the creature. And then, with 
a last flare and splutter it went out altogether. I was alone 
with the cat in the dark ! 

It helps one to face a danger when one knows that 
one has done all that possibly can be done. There is noth- 
ing for it then but to quietly await the result. In this 
case, there was no chance of safety anywhere except the 
precise spot where I was. I stretched myself out, therefore, 
and lay silently, almost breathlessly, hoping that the beast 
might forget my presence if I did nothing to remind him. 
I reckoned that it must already be two o'clock. At four 
it would be full dawn. I had not more than two hours 
to wait for daylight. 

Outside, the storm was still raging, and the rain lashed 
continually against the little windows. Inside, the poison- 
ous and fetid air was overpowering. I could neither hear 
nor see the cat. I tried to think about other things — but 
only one had power enough to draw my mind from my 
terrible position. That was the contemplation of my 
cousin's villainy, his unparalleled hypocrisy, his malignant 
hatred of me. Beneath that cheerful face there lurked the 
spirit of a mediaeval assassin. And as I thought of it I saw 
more clearly how cunningly the thing had been arranged. 
He had apparently gone to bed with the others. No doubt 
he had his witnesses to prove it. Then, unknown to them, 
he had slipped down, Imd lured me into this den and 
abandoned me. His story would be so simple. He had left 
me to finish my cigar in the billiard-room. I had gone 
down oh my own account to have a last look at the cat. 
I had entered the room without observing that the cage 
was opened, and I had been caught. How could such a 



«58 THE BRAZILIAN CAT . 

crime be brought home to him? Suspicion, perhaps — but 
proof, never! 

How slowly those dreadful two hours went by! Once 
I heard a low, rasping sound, which I took to be the 
creature licking its own fur. Several times those greenish 
eyes gleamed at me through the darkness, but never in a 
fixed stare, and my hopes grew stronger that my presence 
had been forgotten or ignored. At last the least faint 
glimmer of light came through the windows — I first dimly 
saw them as two gray squares upon the black wall, then 
gray turned to white, and I could see my terrible com- 
panion once more. And he, alas, could see me ! 

It was evident to me at once that he was in a much more 
dangerous and aggressive mood than when I had seen 
him last. The cold of .the morning had irritated him, and 
he was hungry as well. With a continual growl he paced 
swiftly up and down the side of the room which was 
farthest from my refuge, his whiskers bristling angrily and 
his tail switching and lashing. As he turned at the comers 
his savage eyes always looked upwards at me with a dread- 
ful menace. I knew then that he meant to kill me. Yet I 
found myself even at that moment admiring the sinuous 
grace of the devilish thing, its long, undulating, rippling 
movements, the gloss of its beautiful flanks, the vivid, pal- 
pitating scarlet of the glistening tongue which hung from 
the jet-black muzzle. And all the time that deep, threaten- 
ing growl was rising and rising in an unbroken crescendo. 
I knew that the crisis was at hand. 

It was a miserable hour to meet such a death — so cold, 
so comfortless, shivering in my light dress clothes upon 



. THE BRAZILIAN CAT ^59 

this gridiron of torment upon which I was stretched. I tried 
to brace myself to it, to raise my soul above it, and at 
the same time, with the lucidity which comes to a perfectly 
desperate man, I cast round for some possible means of 
escape. One thing was clear to me. If that front of the 
cage was only back in its position once more, I could find 
a sure refuge behind it. Could I possibly pull it back? 
I hardly dared to move for fear of bringing the creature 
upon me. Slowly, very slowly, I put my hand forward 
until it grasped the edge of the front, the final bar which 
protruded through the wall. To my surprise it came quite^ 
easily to my jerk. Of course the difficulty of drawing it 
out arose from the fact that I was clinging to it. I pulled 
again, and three inches of it came through. It ran appar- 
ently on wheels. I pulled again , . • and then the cat 
sprang. 

It was so quick, so sudden, that I never saw it happen. 
I simply heard the savage snarl, and in an instant after- 
wards the blazing yellow eyes, the flattened black head 
with its red tongue and flashing teeth, were within reach 
of me. The impact of the creature shook the bars upon 
which I lay, until I thought (as far as I could think of 
anything at such a moment) that they were coming down. 
The cat swayed there for an instant, the head and front 
paws quite close to me, the hind paws clawing to find a 
grip upon the edge of the grating. I heard the claws 
rasping as they clung to the wire netting, and the breath 
of the beast made me sick. But its bound had been mis- 
calculated. It could not retain its position. Slowly, grin- 
ning with rage and scratching madly at the bars, it swung 



260 THE BRAZILIAN CAT 

backwards and dropped heavily upon the floor. With a 
growl it instantly faced round to me and crouched for 
another spring. 

I knew that the next few moments would decide my fate. 
The creature had learned by experience. It would not mis- 
calculate again. I must act promptly, fearlessly, if I were 
to have a chance for life. In an instant I had formed my 
plan. Pulling off my dress-coat, I threw it down over the 
head of the beast. At the same moment I dropped over 
the edge, seized the end of the front grating, and pulled 
it frantically out of the wall. 

It came more easily than I could have expected. I rushed 
across the room, bearing it with me; but, as I rushed, 
the accident of my position put me upon the outer side. 
Had it been the other way, I might have come off scathless. 
As it was, there was a moment's pause as I stopped it and 
tried to- pass in through the opening which I had left. 
That moment was enough to give time to the creature to 
toss off the coat with which I had blinded him and to 
spring uptn^me. I hurled myself through the gap and 
pulled the rails to behind me, but he seized my leg before 
I could entirely withdraw it. One stroke of that huge paw 
tore off my calf as a shaving of wood curls off before a 
plane. The next moment, bleeding and fainting, I was 
lying among the foul straw with a line of friendly bars 
between me and the creature which ramped so frantically 
against them. 

Too wounded to move, and too faint to be conscious of 
fear, I could only lie, more dead than alive, and watch it. 
It pressed its broad, black chest against the bars and 
angled for me with its crooked paws as I have seen a kitten 



THE BRAZILIAN CAT 261 

do before a mouse-trap. It ripped my clothes, but, stretch 
as it would, it could not quite reach me. I have heard of the 
curious numbing effect produced by wounds from the 
great carnivora, and now I was destined to experience it, 
for I had lost all sense of personality, and was as interested 
in the cat's failure or success as if it were some game which 
I was watching. And then gradually my mind drifted away 
into strange, vague dreams, always with that black face 
and red tongue coming back into them, and so I lost 
myself in the nirvana of delirium, the blessed relief of those 
who are too sorely tried. 

Tracing the course of events afterwards, I conclude 
that I must have been insensible for about two hours. 
What roused me to consciousness once more was that sharp 
metallic click which had been the precursor of my terrible 
experience. It was the shooting back of the spring lock. 
Then, before my senses were clear enough to entirely 
apprehend what they saw, I was aware of the round, 
benevolent face of my cousin peering in through the 
opened door. What he saw evidently amazed 4iim. There 
was the cat crouching on the floor. I was stretched upon 
my back in my shirtsleeves within the cage, my trousers 
torn to ribbons and a great pool of blood all round me. 
I can see his amazed face now, with the morning sunlight 
upon it. He peered at me, and peered again. Then he 
closed the door behind him, and advanced to the cage to 
see if I were really dead. 

I cannot undertake to say what happened. I was not 
in a fit state to witness or to chronicle such events. I can 
only say that I was suddenly conscious that his face was 
away from me — that he was looking toward the animal. 



262 THE BRAZILIAN CAT 

" Good old Tommy ! " he cried. " Good old Tommy I '* 

TBenTTe" came near the bars, with his back still towards 
me. 

" Down, you stupid beast ! " he roared. ** Down, sir ! 
Don't you know your master.? '* 

Suddenly even in my bemuddled brain a remembrance 
came of those words of his when he had said that the 
taste of blood would turn the cat into a fiend. My blood 
had done it, but he was to pay the price. 

" Get away ! " he screamed. " Get away, you devil ! 
Baldwin ! Baldwin ! Oh, my God ! " 

And then I heard him fall, and rise, and fall again, 
with a sound like the ripping of sacking. His screams grew 
fainter until they were lost in the worrying snarl. And 
then, after I thought that he was dead, I saw, as in a 
nightmare, a blinded, tattered, blood-soaked figure running 
wildly round the room — and that was the last glimpse 
which I had of him before I fainted once again. 

I was many months in my recovery — in fact, I cannot 
say that I have ever recovered, for to the end of my days 
I shall carry a stick as a sign of my night with the 
Brazilian cat. Baldwin, the groom, and the other servants 
could not tell what had occurred when, drawn by the death 
cries of their master, they found me behind the bars, and 
his remains — or what they afterwards discovered to be 
his remains — in the clutch of the creature which he had 
reared. They stalled him off with hot irons, and afterwards 
shot him through the loophole of the door before they could 
finally extricate me. I was carried to my bedroom, and 
there, under the roof of my would-be murderer, I remained 



THE BRAZILIAN CAT 263 

between life and death for several weeks. They had sent 
for a surgeon from Clipton and a nurse from London, 
and in a month I was able to be carried to the station, 
and so conveyed back once more to Grosvenor Mansions. 

I have one remembrance of that illness, which might 
have been part of the ever-changing panorama conjured 
up by a delirious brain were it not so definitely fixed in 
my memory. One night, when the nurse was absent, the 
door of my chamber opened, and a tall woman in blackest 
mourning slipped into the room. She came across to me, 
and as she bent her sallow face I saw by the faint gleam 
of the night-light that it was the Brazilian woman whom 
my cousin had married. She stared intently into my face, 
and her expression was more kindly than I had ever seen it. 

** Are you conscious ? ** she asked. 

I feebly nodded — for I was still very weak. 

** Well, then, I only wished to say to you that you have 
yourself to blame. Did I not do all I could for you? From 
the beginning I tried to drive you from the house. By 
every means, short of betraying my husband, I tried to 
save you from him. I knew that he had a reason for 
bringing you here. I knew that he would never let you 
get away again. No one knew him as I knew him, who 
had suffered from him so often. I did not dare to tell you 
all this. He would have killed me. But I did my best for 
you. As things have turned out, you have been the best 
friend that I have ever had. You have set me free, and I 
fancied that nothing but death would do that. I am sorry 
if you are hurt, but I cannot reproach myself. I told you 
that you were a fool — and a fool you have been." She 
crept out of the room, the bitter, singular woman, and I 



264 THE BRAZILIAN CAT 

was never destined to see her again. With what remained 
from her husband's property she went back to her native 
land, and I have heard that she afterwards took the veil 
at Pemambuco. 

It was not until I had been back in London for some 
time that the doctors pronounced me to be well enough to 
do business. It was not a very welcome permission to me, 
for I feared that it would be the signal for an inrush of 
creditors; but it was Summers, my lawyer, who first took 
advantage of it. 

" I am very glad to see that your lordship is so much 
better," said he. " I have been waiting a long time to offer 
my congratulations." 

"What do you mean, Summers? This is no time for 
joking." 

** I mean what I say," he answered. " You have been 
Lord Southerton for the last six weeks, but we feared that 
it would retard your recovery if you were to learn it.*' 

Lord Southerton ! One of the richest peers in England ! 
I could not believe my ears. And then suddenly I thought 
of the time which had elapsed, and how it coincided with 
my injuries. 

'* Then Lord Southerton must have died about the same 
time that I was hurt? " 

** His death occurred upon that very day." Summers 
looked hard at me as I spoke, and I am convinced — for 
he was a very shrewd fellow — that he had guessed the 
true state of the case. He paused for a moment as if await- 
ing a confidence from me, but I could not see what wits 
to be gained by exposing such a family scandal. 

" Yes, a very curious coincidence," he continued, with 



THE BRAZILIAN CAT ^66 

the same knowing look. " Of course, you are aware that 
your cousin Everard King was the next heir to the estates. 
Now, if it had been you instead of him who had been torn 
to pieces by this tiger, or whatever it was, then of course 
he would have been Lord Southerton at the present mo- 
ment." 

" No doubt," said I. 

" And he took such an interest in it," said Summers. 
I happen to know that the late Lord Southerton's valet was 
in his pay, and that he used to have telegrams from him 
every few hours to tell him how he was getting on. That 
would be about the time when you were down there. Was 
it not strange that he should wish to be so well informed, 
since he knew that he was not the direct heir.'* " 

" Very strange," said I. " And now. Summers, if you 
will bring me my bills and a new cheque-book, we will 
begin to get things into order." 



THE USHER OF LEA HOUSE SCHOOL 

MR. LUMSDEN, the senior partner of Lumsden 
and Westmacott, the well-known scholastic and 
clerical agents, was a small, dapper man, with a 
sharp, abrupt manner, a critical eye, and an incisive way 
of speaking. 

** Your name, sir? " said he, sitting pen in hand with his 
long, red-lined folio in front of him. 

" Harold Weld.'' 

" Oxford or Cambridge? " 

** Cambridge." 

"Honors?'' 

" No, sir." 

" Athlete? " 

** Nothing remarkable, I am afraid." 

"Not a Blue?" 

« Oh, no." 

Mr. Lumsden shook his head despondently and shrugged 
his shoulders in a way which sent my hopes down to zero. 
" There is a very keen competition for masterships, Mr. 
Weld," said he. **The vacancies are few and the appli- 
cants innumerable. A first-class athlete, oar, or cricketer, 
ot a man who has passed very high in his examinations, 
can usually find a vacancy — I might say always in the 
case of the cricketer. But the^ average jnan — if you will 

266 



USHER OF LEA HOUSE SCHOOL ^67 

excuse the description, Mr. Weld — has a very great 
difficulty, almost an insurmountable difficulty. We have al- 
ready more than a hundred such names upon our lists, 
and if you think it worth while our adding yours, I dare say 
that in the course of some years we may possibly be able 
to find you some opening which — " 

He paused on account of a knock at the door. It was 
a clerk with a note. Mr. Lumsden broke the seal and 
read it. 

" Why, Mr. Weld,*' said he, " this is really rather an 
interesting coincidence. I understand you to say that Latin 
and iEnglish are your subjects, and that you would prefer 
for a time to accept a place in an elementary establishment, 
where you would have time for private studj^? " 

"Quite so." 

" This note contains a request from an old client of 
ours. Dr. Phelps McCarthy, of Willow Lea House Acad- 
emy, West Hampstead, that I should at once send him a 
young man who should be qualified to teach Latin and 
English to a small class of boys under fourteen years of 
age. His vacancy appears to be the very one which you 
are looking for. The terms are not munificent — sixty 
pounds, board, lodging, and washing — but the work is 
not onerous, and you would have the evenings to your- 
self." 

" That would do," I cried, with all the eagerness of 
the man who sees work at last after weary months of seek- 
ing. 

" I don't know that it is quite fair to these gentlemen 
whose names have been so long upon our list," said Mr. 
Lumsden, glancing down at his open ledger. " But the 



»6S USHER OF LEA HOUSE SCHOOL 

coincidence is so striking that I feel we must really give 
you the refusal of it." 

" Then I accept it, sir, and I am much obliged to you.*' 

" There is one small provision in Dr. McCarthy's letter. 
He stipulates that the applicant must be a man with an 
imperturbably good temper." 

"I am the very man^* said I, with conviction. 

" Well," said Mr. Lumsden, with some hesitation, " I 
hope that your temper is really as good as you say, for 
I rather fancy that you may need it." 

** I presume that every elementary schoolmaster does." 

" Yes, sir, but it is only fair to you to warn you that 
there may be some especially trying circumstances in this 
particular situation. Dr. Phelps McCarthy does not make 
such a condition without some very good and pressing 
reason." 

There was a certain solemnity in his speech which struck 
a chill in the delight with which I had welcomed this prov- 
idential vacancy, 

" May I ask the nature of these circumstances? " I 
asked. 

" We endeavor to hold the balance equally between our 
clients, and to be perfectly frank with all of them. If 
I knew of objections to you I should certainly communi- 
cate them to Dr. McCarthy, and so I have no hesitation 
in doing as much for you. I find," he continued, glancing 
over the pages of his ledger, " that within the last twelve 
months we have supplied no fewer than seven Latin masters 
to Willow Lea House Academy, four of them having left 
so abruptly as to forfeit their month's salary, and none 
of them having stayed more than eight weeks." 



USHER OF LEA HOUSE SCHOOL 269 

"And the other masters? Have they stayed? *' 

" There is only one other residential master, and he 
appears to be unchanged. You can understand, Mr. Weld,'* 
continued the agent, closing both the ledger and the in- 
terview, " that such rapid changes are not desirable from 
a master's pbint of view^ whatever may be said for them 
by an agent working on comTiussian. I have no idea why 
these gentlemen have resigned their situations so early. 
I can only give you the faclsj and a^tiSliavou to see Dr, 
JVIcCarthy at once and to forni jour oi^iiSTcfG^tHJaion?*," 

Great is the power of the man who has :n61fiing' t'cj lia^e, 
and it was therefore with |)erfect screiiityj but Wiyi,. A- gbc«l 
deal of curiosity, that I rang early fliat 'iftfrnnrm t|u^ 
heavy wrought-iron bell of the Willow Lea Hour^u AcjuJ- 
emy. The building was a massive pile, square and ugly, 
standing in its own extensive grounds, with a broad car- 
riage-sweep curving up to it from tKe road. It stood high, * 
and commanded a view on the one side of the gray roofs 
and bristling spires of Northern London, and on the other 
of the well-wooded and beautiful country which fringes the 
great city. The door was opened by a boy in buttons, and 
I was shown into a well-appointed study, where the prin- 
cipal of the academy presently joined me. 

The warnings and insinuations of the agent had pre- 
pared me to meet a choleric and overbearing person — one 
whose manner was an insupportable provocation to those 
who worked under him. Anything further from the reality 
cannot be imagined. He was a frail, gentle creature, clean- 
shaven and round-shouldered, with a bearing which was so 
courteous that it became almost deprecating. His bushy 
hair was thickly shot with gray, and his age I should 



^^:; 



270 USHER OF LEA HOUSE SCHOOL 

imagine to verge upon sixty. His voice was low and suave» 
and he walked with a certain mincing delicacy of manner. 
His whole appearance was that of a kindly scholar, who 
was more at home among his books than in the practical 
affairs of the world. 

" I am sure that we shall be very happy to have your 
assistance, Mr. Weld," said he, after a few professional 
questions. " Mr. Percival Manners left me yesterday, and 
I should be glad if you could take over his duties to- 
morrow." 

" May I ask if that is Mr. Percival Manners of Sel- 
wyn?" I asked. 

" Precisely. Did you know him? " 

" Yes, he is a friend of mine." 

" An excellent teacher, but a little hasty in his disposi- 
tion. It was his only fault. Now, in your case, Mr. Weld, 
is your own temper under good control? Supposing for 
argmnent's sake that I were to so far forget myself as to 
be rude to you or to speak roughly or to jar your feelings 
in any way, could you rely upon yourself to control your 
emotions? " 

^^ I smiled at the idea of this courteous, little, mincing 
creature ruffling my nerves. 

" I think that I could answer for it, sir," said I. 

" Quarrels are very painful to me," said he. " I wish 
everyone to live in harmony under my roof. I will not 
deny Mr. Percival Manners had provocation, but I wish to 
find a man who can raise himself above provocation, and 
sacrifice his own feelings for the sake of peace and concord." 

** I will do my best, sir." 

" You cannot say more, Mr. Weld. In that case I shall 



USHER OF LEA HOUSE SCHOOL 871 

expect you to-night, if you can get your things ready so 
soon." 

I not only succeeded in getting my things ready, but 
I found time to call at the Benedict Club in Piccadilly, 
where I knew that I should find Manners if he were still 
in town. There he was sure enough in the smoking-room, 
and I questioned him, over a cigarette, as to his reasons 
for throwing up his recent situation. 

" You don't tell me that you are going to Dr. Phelps 
McCarthy's Academy ? " he cried, staring at me in surprise. 
'* My dear chap, it's no use. You can't possibly remain 
there." 

"But I saw him, and he seemed the most courtly, in- 
offensive fellow. I never met a man with more gentle man- 
ners." 

" He ! oh, he's all right. There's no vice in him. Have 
you seen Theophilus St. James? " 
• " I have never heard the name. Who is he? ^ 

" Your colleague. The other master." 

'* No, I have not seen him." 

" He*8 the terror. If you can stand him, you have either 
the spirit of a perfect Christian or else you have no spirit 
at all. A more perfect bounder never bounded." 

" But why does McCarthy stand it? " 

My friend looked at me significantly through his ciga- 
rette moke, and shrugged his shoulders. 

** You will form your own conclusions about that. Mine 
were formed very sooh, and I never found occasion to 
alter them." 

" It would help me very much if you would tell me 
them." 



«72 USHER OF LEA HOUSE SCHOOL 

** When you see a man in his own house allowing his 
business to be ruined, his comfort destroyed, and his 
authority defied by another man in a subordinate position, 
and calmly submitting to it without so much as a word of 
protest, what conclusion do you come to? '* 

'* That the one has a hold over the other," 

Percival Manners nodded his head. # 

" There you are ! You've hit it first barrel. It seems 
to me that there's no other explanation which will cover the 
facts. At some period in his life the little Doctor has gone 
astray. Humanum est errare. I have even done it myself. 
But this was something serious, and the other man got a 
hold of it and has never let go. That's the truth. Blackmail 
is at the bottom of it. But he had no hold over me, and 
there was no reason why I should stand his insolence, so 
I came away — and I very much expect to see you do the 
same." 

For some time he talked over the matter, but he always 
came to the same conclusion — that I should not retain my 
new situation very long. 

It was with no very pleasant feelings after this prepara- 
tion that I found myself face to face with the very man 
of whom I had received so evil an account. Dr. McCarthy 
introduced us to each other in his study on the evening 
of that same day immediately after my arrival at the 
school. 

" This is your new colleague, Mr. St. James," said he, 
in his genial, courteous fashion. " I trust that you will 
mutually agree, and that I shall find nothing but good 
feeling and sympathy beneath this roof." 

I shared the good Doctor's hope, but my expectations 



USHER OF LEA HOUSE SCHOOL 273 

of it were not increased by the appearance of my confrere. 
He was a young, bull-necked fellow about thirty years of 
age, dark-eyed and black-haired, with an exceedingly vig- 
orous physique. I have never seen a more strongly built 
man, though he tended to run to fat in d way which showed 
that he was in the worst- of training. His face was coarse, 
swollen, and brutal with a pair of small black eyes deeply 
sunken in his head. His heavy jowl, his projecting eaprs, 
and his thick bandy legs all went to make up a personality 
which was as formidable as it was repellent. 

" I hear you've never been out before," said he, in a 
rude, brusque fashion. " Well, it's a poor life: hard work 
and starvation pay, as you'll find out for yourself." 

" But it has some compensations," said the principal, 
" Surely you will allow that, Mr. St. James ? " 

"Has it? I never could find them. What do you call 
compensations? " 

** Even to be in the continual presence of youth is a 
privilege. It has the effect of keeping youth in one's own 
soul, for one reflects something of their high spirits and 
their keen enjoyment of life." 

" Little beasts ! " cried my colleague. 

" Come, come, Mr. St. James, you are too hard upon 
them." 

" I hate the sight of them ! If I could put them and 
their blessed copybooks and lexicons and slates into one 
bonfire I'd do it to-night." 

" This is Mr. St. James's way of talking," said the prin- 
cipal, smiling nervously as he glanced at me. " You must 
not take him too seriously. Now, Mr. Weld, you know 
where your room is, and no doubt you have your own little 



rt* USHER OF LEA HOUSE SCHOOL 

arrangements to make. The sooner you make them the 
sooner you will feel yourself at home." 

It seemed to me that he was only too anxious to remove 
me at once from the influence of this extraordinary col- 
league, and I was glad to go, for the conversation had be- 
come embarrassing. 

And so began an epoch which always seems to me as I 
look back to it to be the most singular in all my experience. 
The school was in many ways an excellent one. Dr. Phelps 
McCarthy was an ideal principal. His methods were mod- 
em and rational. The management was all that could be 
desired. And yet in the middle of this well-ordered ma- 
chine there intruded the incongruous and impossible Mr. 
St. James, throwing everything into confusion. His duties 
were to teach English and mathematics, and how he ac- 
quitted himself of them I do not know, as our classes were 
held in separate rooms. I can answer for it, however, that 
the boys feared him and loathed him, and I know that they 
had good reason to do so, for frequently my own teaching 
was interrupted by his bellowings of anger, and even by 
the sound of his blows. Dr. McCarthy spent most of his 
time in his class, but it was, I suspect, to watch over the 
master rather than the boys, and to try to moderate his 
ferocious temper when it threatened to become dangerous. 

It was in his bearing to the head master, however, that 
my colleague's conduct was most outrageous. The first con- 
versation which I have recorded proved to be typical of 
their intercourse. He domineered over him openly and 
brutally. I have heard him contradict him roughly before 
the whole school. At no time would he show him any mark 
of respect, and my temper often rose within me when I 



USHER OF LEA HOUSE SCHOOL 275 

saw the quiet acquiescence of the old Doctor, and his pa- 
tient tolerance of his monstrous treatment. And yet the 
sight of it surrounded the principal also with a certain 
vague horror in my mind, for supposing my f riend^s theory 
to be correct — and I could devise no better one — how 
black must have been the story which could be held over 
his head by this man and, by fear of its publicity, force 
him to undergo such humiliations. This quiet, gentle Doc- 
tor might be a profound hypocrite, a criminal, a forger 
possibly, or a poisoner. Only such a secret as this could 
account for the complete power which the young man held 
over him. Why else should he admit so hateful a presence 
into his house and so harmful an influence into his school? 
Why should he submit to degradations which could not be 
witnessed, far less endured, without indignation? 

And yet, if it were so, I was forced to confess that my 
principal carried it off with extraordinary duplicity. Never 
by word or sign did he show that the young man's presence 
was distasteful to him. I have seen him look pained, it is 
true, after some peculiarly outrageous exhibition, but he 
gave me the impression that it was always on account of the 
scholars or of me, never on account of himself. He spoke to 
and of St. James in an indulgent fashion, smiling gently 
at what made my blood boil within me. In his way of look- 
ing at him and addressing him, one could see no trace of 
resentment, but rather a sort of timid and deprecating good 
will. His company he certainly courted, and they spent 
many hours together in the study and the garden. 

As to my own relations with Theophilus St. James, I 
made up my mind from the beginning that I should keep 
my temper with him, and to that resolution I steadfastly 



276 USHER OF LEA HOUSE SCHOOL 

adhered. If Dr. McCarthy chose to permit this disrespect, 
and to condone these outrages, it was his affair and not 
mine. It was evident that his one wish was that there should 
be peace between us, and I felt that I could help him best 
by respecting this desire. My easiest way to do so was to 
avoid my colleague, and this I did to the best of my ability. 
When we were thrown together I was quiet, polite, and re- 
served. He, on his part, showed me no ill-will, but met me 
rather with a coarse joviality, and a rough familiarity 
which he meant to be ingratiating. He was insistent in his 
attempts to get me into his room at night, for the purpose 
of playing euchre and of drinking. 

" Old McCarthy doesn't mind," said he. " Don't you be 
afraid of him. We'll do what we like, and I'll answer for it 
that he won't object." Once only I went, and when I left, 
after a dull and gross evening, my host was stretched dead 
drunk upon the sofa. After that I gave the excuse of ^ 
course of study, and spent my spare hours alone in my 
own room. 

One point upon which I was anxious to gain information 
was as to how long these proceedings had been going on. 
When did St. James assert his hold over Dr. McCarthy? 
From neither of them could I learn how long my colleague 
had been in his present situation. One or two leading ques- 
tions upon my part were eluded or ignored in a manner so 
marked that it was easy to see that they were both of them 
as eager to conceal the point as I was to know it. But at 
last one evening I had the chance of a chat with Mrs. Car- 
ter, the matron — for the Doctor was a widower — and 
from her I got the information which I wanted. It needed 
no questioning to get at her knowledge, for she was so full 



USHER OF LEA HOUSE SCHOOL 277 

bf indignation that she shook with passion as she spoke of 
it, and raised her. hands into the air in the earnestness of 
her denunciation, as she described the grievances which she 
had against my colleague. 

•* It was three years ago, Mr. Weld, that he first dark- 
ened this doorstep,'* she cried. " Three bitter years they 
have been to me. The school had fifty boys then. Now it 
has twenty-two. That's what he has done for us in three 
years. In another three there won't be one. And the Doc- 
tor, that angel of patience, you see how he treats him, 
though he is not fit to lace his boots for him. If it wasn't 
for the Doctor, you may be sure that I wouldn't stay an 
hour under the same roof with such a man, and so I told 
him to his own face, Mr. Weld. If the Doctor would only 
pack him about his business — but I know that I am say- 
ing more than I should ! " She stopped herself with an 
effort, and spoke no more upon the subject. She had re- 
membered that I was almost a stranger in the school, and 
she feared that she had been indiscreet. 

There were one or two very singular points about my 
colleague. The chief one was that he rarely took any ex- 
ercise. There was a playing-field within the college 
grounds, and that was his farthest point. If the boys went 
out, it was I or Dr. McCarthy who accompanied them. St. 
James gave as a reason for this that he had injured his 
knee some years before, and that walking was painful to 
him. For my own part I put it down to pure laziness upon 
his part, for he was of an obese, heavy temperament. Twice 
however I saw him from my window stealing out of the 
grounds late at night, and the second time I watched him 
return in the graj' of the morning and slink in through an 



278 USHER OF LEA HOUSE SCHOOL 

open window. These furtive excursions were never alluded 
to, but they exposed the hoUowness of his story about his 
knee, and they increased the dislike and distrust which I 
had of the man. His nature seemed to be vicious to the 
core. 

Another point, small but suggestive, was that he hardly 
ever during the months that I was at Willow Lea House 
received any letters, and on those few occasions they were 
obviously tradesmen's bills. I am an early riser, and used 
every morning to pick my own correspondence out of the 
bundle upon the hall table. I could judge therefore how 
few were ever there for Mr. Theophilus St. James. There 
seemed to me to be something peculiarly ominous in this. 
What sort of a man could he be who during thirty years of 
life had never made a single friend, high or low, who cared 
to continue to keep in touch with him ? And yet the sinister 
fact remained that the head master not only tolerated, but 
was even intimate with him. More than once on entering a 
room I have found them tallcing confidentially together, 
and they would walk arm in arm in deep conversation up 
and down the garden paths. So curious did I become to 
know what the tie was which bound them, that I found it 
gradually push out my other interests and become the 
main purpose of my life. In school and out of school, at 
meals and at play, I was perpetually engaged in watching 
Dr. Phelps McCarthy and Mr. Theophilus St. James, and 
in endeavoring to solve the mystery which surrounded 
them. 

But, unfortunately, my curiosity was a little too open. 
I had not the art to conceal the suspicions which I felt 
about the relations which existed between these two men and 



USHER OF LEA HOUSE SCHOOL 279 

the nature of the hold which the one appeared to have over 
the other. It may have been my manner of watching them^ 
it may have been some indiscreet question, but it is certain 
that I showed too clearly what I felt. One night I was con- 
scious that the eyes of Theophilus St. James were fixed 
upon me in a surly and menacing stare. I had a fprebod- 
ing of evil, and I was not surprised when Dr. McCarthy 
called me next morning into his study. 

" I am very, sorry, Mr. Weld," said he, " but I am afraid 
that I shall be compelled to dispense with your services." 

" Perhaps you would give me some reason for dismissing 
me," I answered, for I was conscious of having done my 
duties to the best of my power, and knew well that only one 
reason could be given. 

** I have no fault to find with you," said he, and the color 
came to his cheeks. 

" You send me away at the suggestion of my colleague." 

His eyes turned away from mine. 

" We will not discuss the question, Mr. Weld. It is im- 
possible for me to discuss it. In justice to you, I will give 
you the strongest recommendation for your next situation. 
I can say no more. I hope that you will continue your 
duties here until you have found a place elsewhere." 

My whole soul rose against the injustice of it, and yet I 
had no appeal and no redress. I could only bow and leave 
the room, with a bitter sense of ill-usage at my heart. 

My first instinct was to pack my boxes and leave the 
house. But the head master had given me permission to re- 
main until I had found another situation. I was sure that 
St. James desired me to go, and that was a strong reason 
why I should stay. If my presence annoyed him, I should 



280 USHER OF LEA HOUSE SCHOOL 

give him as much of it as I could. I had begun to hate him 
and to long to have my revenge upon him. If he had a hold 
over our principal, might not I in turn obtain one over him? 
It was a sign of weakness that he should be so afraid of my 
curiosity. He would not resent it so much if he had not 
something to fear from it. I entered my name once more 
upon the books of the agents, but meanwhile I continued to 
fulfill my duties at Willow Lea House, and so it came about 
that I was present at the denouement of this singular sit- 
uation. 

During that week — for it was only a week before the 
crisis came — I was in the habit of going down each eve- 
ning, after the work of the day was done, to inquire about 
my new arrangements. One night, it was a cold and windy 
evening in March, I had just stepped out from the hall 
door when a strange sight met my eyes. A man was crouch- 
ing before one of the windows of the house. His knees were 
bent and his eyes were fixed upon the small line of light be- 
tween the curtain and the sash. The window threw a square 
of brightness in front of it, and in the middle of this the 
dark shadow of this ominous visitor showed clear and hard. 
It was but for an instant that I saw him, for he glanced up 
and was off in a moment through the shrubbery. I could 
hear the patter of his feet as he ran down the road until it 
died away in the distance. 

It was evidently my duty to turn back and to tell Dr. 
McCarthy what I had seen. I found him in his study. I 
had expected him to be disturbed at such an incident, but I 
was not prepared for the state of panic into which he fell. 
He leaned back in his chair, white and gasping, like one 
who has received a mortal blow. 



USHER OF LEA HOUSE SCHOOL 281 

** Which window, Mr. Weld? " he asked, wiping his fore- 
head. " Which window was it? '* 

" The next to the dining-room — Mr. St, James's win- 
dow.'' 

" Dear me ! Dear me ! This is, indeed, unfortunate ! A 
man looking through Mr. St. James's window ! " He wrung 
his hands like a man who is at his wits' end what to do. 

" I shall be passing the police-station, sir. Would you 
wish me to mention the matter? " 

" No, no," he cried, suddenly, mastering his extreme agi- 
tation ; " I have no doubt that it was some poor tramp who 
intended to beg. I attach no importance to the incident — 
none at all. Don't let me detain you, Mr. Weld, if you wish 
to go out." 

I left him sitting in his study with reassuring words 
upon his lips, but with horror upon his face. My heart was 
heavy for my little employer as I started off once more for 
town. As I looked back from the gate at the square of 
light which marked the window of my colleague, I sud- 
denly saw the black outline of Dr. McCarthy's figure pass- 
ing against the lamp. He had hastened from his study then 
to tell St. James what he had heard. What was the mean- 
ing of it all, this atmosphere of mystery, this inexplicable 
terror, these confidences between two such dissimilar men? 
I thought and thought as I walked, but do what I would 
I could not hit upon any adequate conclusion. I little 
knew how near I was to the solution of the problem. 

It was very late — nearly twelve , o'clock — when I re- 
turned, and the lights were all out save one in the Doctor's 
study. The black, gloomy house loomed before me as I 
walked up the drive, its somber bulk broken only by the 



882 USHER OF LEA HOUSE SCHOOL 

glimmering point of brightness. I let myself in with my 
latch-key, and was about to enter my own room when my 
attention was arrested by a short, sharp cry like that of a 
man in pain. I stood and listened, my hand upon the 
handle of my door. 

All was silent in the house save for a distant murmur of 
voices which came, I knew, from the Doctor's room. I stole 
quietly down the corridor in that direction. The sound re- 
solved itself now into two voices, the rough bullying tones 
of St. James and the lower tone of the Doctor, the one ap- 
parently insisting and the other arguing and pleading. 
Four thin lines of light in the blackness showed me the door 
of the Doctor's room, and step by step I drew nearer to it 
in the darkness. St. James's voice within rose louder and 
louder, and his words now came plainly to my ear. 

" I'll have every pound of it. If you won't give it me 
I'll take it. Do you hear? " 

Dr. McCarthy's reply was inaudible, but the angry voice 
broke in again. 

" Leave you destitute ! I leave you this little gold-mine 
of a school, and that's enough for one old man, is it not? 
How am I to set up in Australia without money? Answer 
me that!" 

Again the Doctor said something in a soothing voice, but 
his answer only roused his companion to a higher pitch of 
fury. 

" Done for me? What have you ever done for me ex- 
cept what you couldn't help doing? It was for your good 
name, not for my safety, that you cared. But enough 
cackle! I must get on my way before morning. Will you 
open your safe or will you not? " 



USHER OF LEA HOUSE SCHOOL 

** Oh, James, how can you use me so? " cried a wailing 
voice, and then there came a sudden little scream of pain. 
At the sound of that helpless appeal from brutal violence I 
lost for once that temper upon which I had prided myself. 
Every bit of manhood in me cried out against any further 
neutrality. With my walking cane in my hand I rushed 
into the study. As I did so I was conscious that the hall- 
door bell was violently ringing. 

" You villain ! '' I cried, " let him go ! " 

The two men were standing in front of a small safe, 
which stood against one wall of the Doctor's room. St. 
James held the old man by the wrist, and he had twisted his 
arm round in order to force him to produce the key. My 
little head master, white but resolute, was struggling furi- 
ously in the grip of the burly athlete. The bully glared 
over his shoulder at me with a mixture of fury and terror 
upon his brutal features. Then, realizing that I was alone, 
he dropped his victim and made for me with a horrible 
curse. 

" You infernal spy ! " he cried. *' I'll do for you anyhow 
before I leave." 

I am not a very strong man, and I realized that I was 
helpless if once at close quarters. Twice I cut at him with 
my stick, but he rushed in at me with a murderous growl, 
and seized me by the throat with both his muscular hands. 
I fell backwards and he on the top of me, with a grip which 
was squeezing the life from me. I was conscious of his 
malignant yellow-tinged eyes within a few inches of my 
own, and then with a beating of pulses in my head and a 
singing in my ears, my senses slipped away from me. But 



284 USHER OF LEA HOUSE SCHOOL 

even in that supreme moment I was aware that the door- 
bell was still violently ringing. 

When I came to myself, I was lying upon the sofa in 
Dr. McCarthy's study, and the Doctor himself was seated 
beside me. He appeared to be watching me intently and 
anxiously, for as I opened my eyes and looked about me he 
gave a great cry of relief. "Thank God!'* he cried. 
"Thank God!'' 

** Where is he? " I asked, looking round the room. As I 
did so, I became aware that the furniture was scattered in 
every direction, and that there were traces of an even more 
violent struggle than that in which I had been engaged. 

The Doctor sank his face between his hands. 

" They have him," he groaned. " After these years of 
trial they have him again. But how thankful I am that he 
has not for a second time stained his hands in blood." 

As the Doctor spoke I became aware that a man in the 
braided jacket of an inspector of police was standing in 
the doorway. 

" Yes, sir," he remarked, " you have had a pretty nar- 
row escape. If we had not got in when we did, you would 
not be here to tell the tale. I don't know that I ever saw 
anyone much nearer to the undertaker." 

I sat up with my hands to my throbbing head. 

" Dr. McCarthy," said I, " this is all a mystery to me. 
I should be glad if you could explain to me who this man 
is, and why you have tolerated him so long in your 
house." 

" I owe you an explanation, Mr. Weld — and the more 
so since you have, in so chivalrous a fashion, almost sacri- 
ficed your life in my defense. There is no reason now for 



USHER OF LEA HOUSE SCHOOL 286 

secrecy. In a word, Mr. Weld, this unhappy man's real 
name is James McCarthy, and he is my only son.'* 

"Your son?" 

"Alas, yes. What sin have I ever committed that I 
should have such a punishment? He has made my whole 
life a misery from the first years of his boyhood. Violent, 
headstrong, selfish, unprincipled, he has always been the 
same. At eighteen he was a criminal. At twenty, in a 
paroxysm of passion, he took the life of a boon companion 
and was tried for murder. He only just escaped the gal- 
lows, and he was condemned to penal servitude. Three 
years ago he succeeded in escaping, and managed, in face 
of a thousand obstacles, to reach my house in London. My 
wife's heart had been broken by his condemnation, and as 
he had succeeded in getting a suit of ordinary clothes, 
there was no one here to recognize him. For months he 
lay concealed in the attics until the first search of the police 
should be over. Then I gave him employment here, as you 
have seen, though by his rough and overbearing manners 
he made my own life miserable, and that of his fellow-mas- 
ters unbearable. You have been with us for four months, 
Mr. Weld, but no other master endured him so long. I 
apologize now for all you have had to submit to, but I ask 
you what else could I do? For his dead mother's sake I 
could not let harm come to him as long as it was in my 
power to fend it off. Only under my roof could he find a 
refuge — the only spot in all the world — and how could I 
keep him here without its exciting remark unless I gave 
him some occupation? I made him English master there- 
fore, and in that capacity I have protected him here for 
three years. You have no doubt observed that he never 



286 USHER OF LEA HOUSE SCHOOL 

during the daytime went beyond the college grounds. You 
now understand the reason. But when to-night you came to 
me with your report of a man who was looking through his 
window, I understood that his retreat was at last discov- 
ered. I besought him to fly at once, but he had been drink- 
ing, the unhappy fellow, and my words fell upon deaf ears. 
When at last he made up his mind to go he wished to take 
from me in his flight every shilling which I possessed. It 
was your entrance which saved me from him, while the 
police in turn arrived only just in time to rescue you. I 
have made myself amenable to the law by harboring an 
escaped prisoner, and remain here in the custody of the in- 
spector, but a prison has no terrors for me after what I 
have endured in this house during the last three years." 

*' It seems to me. Doctor," said the inspector, " that, if 
you have broken the law, you have had quite enough pun- 
ishment already." 

"God knows I have!" cried Dr. McCarthy, and sank 
his haggard face upon his hands. 



THE BROWN HAND 

EVERYONE knows that Sir Dominick Holden, the 
famous Indian surgeon, made me his heir, and 
that his death changed me in an hour from a hard- 
working and impecunious medical man to a well-to^do 
landed proprietor. Many know also that there were at 
least five people between the inheritance and me, and that 
Sir Dominick's selection appeared to be altogether arbi- 
trary and whimsical. I can assure them, however, that 
they are quite mistaken, and that although I only knew Sir 
Dominick in the closing years of his life, there were none 
the less very real reasons why he should show his good will 
towards me. As a matter of fact, though I say it myself, 
no man ever did more for another than I did for my Indian 
uncle. I cannot expect the story to 'be believed, but it is so 
singular that I should feel that it was a breach of duty if 
I did not put it upon record — so here it is,.«uad your belief 
or incredulity, ia ynur.QHn p-ffeir*. 

Sir Dominick Holden, C.B., K.C.S.I., and I don't know 
what besides, was the most distinguished Indian surgeon 
of his day. In the Army originally, he afterwards settled 
down into civil practice in Bombay, and visited as a con- 
sultant every part of India. His name is best remembered 
in connection with the Oriental Hospital, which he founded 
and supported. The time came, however, when his iron 
constitution began to show signs of the long strain to 

287 



S88 THE BROWN HAND 

which he had .subjected it, and his brother practitioners 
(who were not, perhaps, entirely disinterested upon the 
point) were unanimous in recommending him to return to 
England. He held on so long as he could, but at last he 
developed nervous symptoms of a very pronounced char- 
acter, and so came back, a broken man, to his native county 
of Wiltshire. He bought a considerable estate with an 
ancient manor-house upon the edge of Salisbury Plain, and 
devoted his old age to the study of Comparative Pathol- 
ogy, which had been his learned hobby all his life, and in 
which he was a foremost autborltj. 

We of the family were, as may be imagined, much ex- 
cited by the news of the return of this rich and childless 
uncle to England. On his part, although by no means ex- 
uberant in his hospitality, he showed some sense of his duty 
to his relations, and each of us in turn had an invitation to 
visit him. From the accounts of my cousins it appeared 
to be a melancholy business, and it was with mixed feel- 
ings that I at last received my own summons to appear at 
Rodenhurst. My wife was so carefully excluded in the 
invitation that my first impulse was to refuse it, but the 
interests of the children had to be considered, and so, with 
her consent, I set out one October afternoon upon my visit 
to Wiltshire, with little thought of what that visit was to 
entail. 

My uncle's estate was situated where the arable land of 
the plains begins to swell upwards into the rounded chalk 
hills which are characteristic of the county. As I drove 
from Dinton Station in the waning light of that autumn 
day, I was impressed by the weird nature of the scenery. 
The few scattered cottages of the peasants were so dwarfed 



THE BROWN HAND 289 

by the huge evidences of prehistoric life, that the present 
appeared to be a dream and the past to be the obtrusive 
and masterful reality. The road wound through the val- 
leys, formed by a succession of grassy hills, and the sum- 
mit of each was cut and carved into the most elaborate 
fortifications, some circular and some square, but all on a 
scale which has defied the winds and the rains of many cen- 
turies. Some call them Roman and some British, but their 
true origin and the reasons for this particular tract of 
country being so interlaced with entrenchments have never 
been finally made clear. Here and there on the long, 
smooth, olive-colored slopes there rose small rounded bar- 
rows or tumuli. Beneath them lie the cremated ashes of the 
race which cut so deeply into the hills, but their graves tell 
us nothing save that a jar full of dust represents the 
man who once labored under the sun. 

It was through this weird country that I approached my 
uncle's residence of Rodenhurst, and the house was, as I 
found, in due keeping with its surroundings. Two broken 
and weather-stained pillars, each surmounted by a muti- 
lated heraldic emblem, flanked the entrance to a neglected 
drive. A cold wind whistled through the elms which lined 
it, and the air was full of the drifting leaves. At the far 
end, under the gloomy arch of trees, a single yellow lamp 
burned steadily. In the dim half-light of the coming night 
I saw a long, low building stretching out two irregular 
wings, with deep eaves, a sloping gambrel roof, and walls 
which were criss-crossed with timber balks in the fashion 
of the Tudors. The cheery light of a fire flickered in the 
broad, latticed window to the left of the low-porched door, 
and this, as it proved, marked the study of my uncle, for it 



290 THE BROWN HAND 

was thither that I was led by his butler in order to make 
my host's acquaintance. 

He was cowering over his fire, for the moist chill of an 
English autumn had set him shivering. His lamp was unlit, 
and I only saw the red glow of the embers beating upon a 
huge, craggy face, with a Red Indian nose and cheek, and 
deep furrows and seams from 'eye to chin, the sinister marks 
of hidden volcanic fires. He sprang up at my entrance 
with something of an old-world courtesy and welcomed me 
warmly to Rodenhurst. At the same time I was conscious, 
as the lamp was carried in, that it was a very critical pair 
of light blue eyes which looked out at me from under 
shaggy eyebrows, like scouts beneath a bush, and that this 
outlandish uncle of mine was carefully reading off my 
character with all the ease of a practiced observer and an 
cL experienceman of the world. 

For my part I looked at him, and looked again, for I 
had never seen a man whose appearance was more fitted to 
hold one's attention. His figure was the framework of a 
giant, but he had fallen away until his coat dangled 
straight down in a shocking fashion from a pair of broad 
and bony shoulders. All his limbs were huge and yet 
emaciated, and I could not take my gaze from his knobby 
wrists, and long, gnarled hands. But his eyes — those 
peering light blue eyes — they were the most arrestive of 
any of his peculiarities. It was not their color alone, nor 
was it the ambush of hair in which they lurked ; but it was 
the expression which I read in them. For the appearance 
and bearing of the man were masterful, and one expected 
a certain corresponding arroganre in his eyes, but instead 
of that I read the look which tells of a spirit cowed and 



THE BROWN HAND 291 

crushed, the furtive, expectant look of the dog whose 
master has taken the whip from the rack. I formed my 
own medical diagnosis upon one glance at those critical 
and yet appealing eyes. I believed that he was stricken 
with some mortal ailment, that he knew himself to be ex- 
posed to sudden death, and that he lived in terror of it. 
Such was my judgment — a false one, as the event showed ; 
but I mention it that it may help you to realize the look 
which I read in his eyes. 

My uncle's welcome was, as I have said, a courteous one, 
and in an hour or so I found myself seated between him 
and his wife at a comfortable dinner, with curious pun- 
gent delicacies upon the table, and. a stealthy, quick-eyed 
Oriental waiter behind his chair. The old couple had come 
round to that tragic imitation of the dawn of life when 
husband and wife, having lost or scattered all those who 
were their intimates, find themselves face to face and alone 
once more, their work done, and the end nearing fast. 
Those who have reached that stage in sweetness and love, 
who can change their winter into a gentle Indian summer, 
have come as victors through the ordeal of life. Lady 
Holden was a small, alert woman, with a kindly eye, and 
her expression as she glanced at him was a certificate of 
character to her husband. And yet, though I read a mutual 
love in their glances, I read also a mutual horror, and 
recognized in her face some reflection of that stealthy 
fear which I detected in his. Their talk was some- 
times merry and sometimes sad, but there was a forced note 
in their merriment and a naturalness in their sadness 
which told me that a heavy heart beat upon either side 
of me. 



SgS THE BROWN HAND 

We were sitting over our first glass of wine, and the 
servants had left the room, when the conversation took a 
turn which produced a remarkable effect upon my host and 
hostess. I cannot recall what it was which started the topic 
of the supernatural, but it ended in mj showing them that 
the abnormal in psychical experiences was a subject to 
which I had, like many neurologists, devoted a great deal 
of attention. I concluded by narrating my experiences 
when, as a member of the Psychical Research Society, I had 
formed one of a committee of three who spent the night in 
a haunted house. Our adventures were neither exciting nor 
convincing, but, such as it was, the story appeared to in- 
terest my auditors in a remarkable degree. They listened 
with an eager silence, and I caught a look of intelligence 
between them which I could not understand. Lady Holden 
immediately afterwards rose and left the room. 

Sir Dominick pushed the cigar-box over to me, and we 
smoked for some little time in silence. That huge bony 
hand of his was twitching as he raised it with his cheroot 
to his lips, and I felt that the man's nerves were vibrating 
like fiddle-strings. My instincts told me that he was on the 
verge of some intimate confidence, and I feared to speak 
lest I should interrupt it. At last he turned towards me 
with a spasmodic gesture like a man who throws his last 
scruple to the winds. 

" From the little that I have seen of you it appears to me, 
Dr. Hardacre," said he, '* that you are the very man I 
have wanted to meet." 

" I am delighted to hear it, sir." 

" Your head seems to be cool and steady. You will ac- 
quit me of any desire to flatter you, for the circumstances 



THE BROWN HAND 293 

are too serious to permit of insincerities. You have some 
special knowledge upon these subjects, and you evidently 
view them from that philosophical standpoint which robs 
them of all vulgar terror. I presume that the sight of an 
apparition would not seriously discompose you? " 

" I think not, sir.'' 

** Would even interest you, perhaps ? " 

" Most intensely." 

" As a psychical observer, you would probably investi- 
gate it in as impersonal a fashion as an astronomer in- 
vestigates a wandering comet? " 

« Precisely." 

He gave a heavy sigh. 

** Believe me, Dr. Hardacre, there was a time when I 
could have spoken as you do now. My nerve was a by-word 
in India. Even the Mutiny never shook it for an instant. 
And yet you see what I am reduced to — the most timorous 
man, perhaps, in all this county of Wiltshire. Do not 
speak too bravely upon this subject, or you may find your- 
self subjected to as long-drawn a test as I am — a test 
which can only end in the madhouse or the grave." 

I waited patiently until he should see fit to go farther in 
his confidence. His preamble had, I need not say, filled me 
with interest and expectation. 

" For some years. Dr. Hardacre," he continued, " my 
life and that of my wife have been made miserable by a 
cause which is so grotesque that it borders upon the ludi- 
crous. And yet familiarity has never made it more easy to 
bear — on the contrary, as time passes my nerves become 
more worn and shattered by the constant attrition. If you 
have no physical fears, Dr. Hardacre, I should very much 



294 THE BROWN HAND 

value your opinion upon this phenomenon which troubles 
us so/' 

"For what it is worth my opinion is entirely at your 
service. May I ask the nature of the phenomenon? " 

" I think that your experiences will have a higher evi- 
dential value if you are not told in advance what you may 
expect to encounter. You are yourself aware of the quib- 
bles of unconscious cerebration and subjective impressions 
with which a scientific sceptic may throw a doubt upon 
your statement. It would be as well to guard against them 
in advance.'* 

"What shaU I do, then?'' 

" I will tell you. Would you mind following me this 
way? " He led me out of the dining-room and down a long 
passage until we came to a terminal door. Inside there was 
a large bare room fitted as a laboratory, with numerous 
scientific instruments and bottles. A shelf ran along one 
side, upon which there stood a long line of glass jars con- 
taining pathological and anatomical specimens. 

" You see that I still dabble in some of my old studies," 
said Sir Dominick. " These jars are the remains of what 
was once a most excellent collection, but unfortunately I 
lost the greater part of them when my house was burned 
down in Bombay in '92. It was a most unfortunate affair 
for me — in more ways than one. I had examples of many 
rare conditions, and my splenic collection was probably 
unique. These are the survivors." 

I glanced over them, and saw that they really were of a 
very great value and rarity from a pathological point of 
view : bloated organs, gaping cysts, distorted bones, odious 
parasites — a singular exhibition of the products of India. 



THE BROWN HAND 295 

" There is, as you see, a small settee here," said my host. 
** It was far from our intention to offer a guest so meager 
an accommodation, but since affairs have taken this turn, 
it would be a great kindness upon your part if you would 
consent to spend the night in this apartment. I beg that 
you will not hesitate to let me know if the idea should be at 
all repugnant to you." 

" On the contrary," I said, " it is most acceptable." 

" My own room is the second on the left, so that if you 
should feel that you are in need of company a call would 
always bring me to your side." 

" I trust that I shall not be compelled to disturb you." 

" It is unlikely that I shall be asleep. I do not sleep 
much. Do not hesitate to summon me." 

And so with this agreement we joined Lady Holden in 
the drawing-room and talked of lighter things. 

It was no affectation upon my part to say that the pros- 
pect of my night's adventure was an agreeable one. I 
have no pretense to greater physical courage than my 
neighbors, but familiarity with a subject robs it of those 
vague and undefined terrors which are the most appalling 
to the imaginative mind. The human brain is capable of 
only one strong emotion at a time, and if it be filled with 
curiosity or scientific enthusiasm, there is no room for fear. 
It is true that I had my uncle's assurance that he had him- 
self originally taken this point of view, but I reflected that 
the breakdown of his nervous system might be due to his 
forty years in India as much as to any psychical experi- 
ences which had befallen him. I at least was sound in 
nerve and brain, and it was with something of the pleasur- 
able thrill of anticipation with which the sportsman takes 



296 THE BROWN HAND 

his poeition beside the haunt of his game that I shut the 
laboratory door behind me, and partially undressing, lay 
down upon the rug-covered settee. 

It was not an ideal atmosphere for a bedroom. The air 
was heavy with many chemical odors, that of methylated 
spirit predominating. Nor were the decorations of my 
chamber very sedative. The odious line of glass jars with 
their relics of disease and suffering stretched in front of 
my very eyes. There was no blind to the window, and a 
three-quarter moon streamed its white light into the room, 
tracing a silver square with filigree lattices upon the op- 
posite wall. When I had extinguished my candle this one 
bright patch in the midst of the general gloom had cer- 
tainly an eerie and discomposing aspect. A rigid and ab- 
solute silence reigned throughout the old house, so that the 
low swish of the branches in the garden came softly and 
soothingly to my ears. It may have been Ihe hypnotic 
lullaby of this gentle susurrus, or it may have been the 
result of my tiring day, but after many dozings and many 
efforts to regain my clearness of perception, I fell at last 
into a deep and dreamless sleep. 

I was awakened by some sound in the rocmi, and I in- 
stantly raised 'myself upon my elbow on the couch. Some 
hours had passed, for the square patch upon the wall had 
slid downwards and sideways until it lay obliquely at the 
end of my bed. The rest of the room was in deep shadow. 
At first I could see nothing; presently, as my eyes became 
accustomed to the faint light, I was aware, with a thrill 
which all my scientific absorption could not entirely pre- 
vent, that something was moving slowly along the line of 
the wall. A gentle, shuflSing sound, as of soft slippers, 



THE BROWN HAND 297 

came to my ears, and I dimly discerned a human figure 
walking stealthily from the direction of the door. As it 
emerged into the patch of moonlight I saw very clearly 
what it was and how it was employed. It was a man, short 
and squat, dressed in siDme sort of dark gray gown, which 
hung straight from his shoulders to his feet. The moon 
shone upon the side of his face, and I saw that it was choc- 
olate brown in color, with a ball of black hair like a 
woman's at the back of his head. He walked slowly, and his 
eyes were cast upwards towards the line of bottles which 
contained those gruesome remnants of humanity. He 
seemed to examine each jar with attention, and then to 
pass on to the next. When he had come to the end of the 
line, immediately opposite my bed, he stopped, faced me, 
threw up his hands with a gesture of despair, and vanished 
from my sight. 

" I have said that he threw up his hands, but I should 
have said his arms, for as he assumed that attitude of de- 
spair. I observed a singular peculiarity about his appear- 
ance. He had only one hand! As the sleeves drooped 
down from the upflung arms I saw the left plainly, but 
the right ended in a knobby and unsightly stump. In every 
other way his appearance was so natural, and I had both 
seen and heard him so clearly, that I could easily have be- 
lieved that he was an Indian servant of Sir Dominick's 
who had come into my room in search of something. It was 
only his sudden disappearance which suggested anything 
more sinister to me. As it was I sprang from my couch, lit 
a candle, and examined the whole room carefully. There 
were no signs of my visitor, and I was forced to conclude 
that there had really been something outside the normal 



298 THE BROWN HAND 

laws of Nature in his appearance. I lay awake for the re- 
mainder of the night, but nothing else occurred to disturb 
me. 

I am an early riser, but my uncle was an even earlier 
one, for I found him pacing up and down the lawn at the 
side of the house. He ran towards me in his eagerness 
when he saw me come out from the door. 

" WeD, weU ! '' he cried. " Did you see him? »» 

" An Indian with one hand? " 

" Precisely .»» 

" Yes, I saw him " — and I told him all that occurred. 
When I had finished, he led the way into his study. 

" We have a little time before breakfast," said he. *' It 
will suffice to give you an explanation of this extraordinary 
affair — so far as I can explain that which is essentially 
inexplicable. In the first place, when I tell you that for 
four years I have never passed one single night, either in 
Bombay, aboard ship, or here in England without my sleep 
being broken by this fellow, you will understand why it is 
that I am a wreck of my former self. His programme is 
always the same. He appears by my bedside, shakes me 
roughly by the shoulder, passes from my room into the 
laboratory, walks slowly along the line of my bottles, and 
then vanishes. For more than a thousand times he has gone 
through the same routine.'^ 

" What does he want? " 

" He wants his hapd." 

" His hand? '' 

" Yes, it came about in this way. I was summoned to 
Peshawur for a consultation some ten years ago, and while 
there I was asked to look at the hand of a native who was 



THE BROWN HAND 299 

passing through with an Afghan caravan. The fellow 
came from some mountain tribe living away at the back of 
beyond somewhere on the other side of KafBristan. He 
talked a bastard Pushtoo, and it was all I could do to un- 
derstand him. He was suffering from a soft sarcomatous 
sweDing of one of the metacarpal joints, and I made him 
realize that it was only by losing his hand that he could 
hope to save his life. After much persuasion he consented 
to the operation, and he asked me, when it was over, what 
fee I demanded. The poor fellow was almost a beggar, so 
that the idea of a fee was absurd, but I answered in jest 
that my fee should be his hand, and that I proposed to add 
it to my pathological collection. 

" To my surprise he demurred very much to the sug- 
gestion, and he explained that according to his religion it 
was an all-important matter that the body should be re- 
united after death, and so make a perfect dwelling for the 
spirit. The belief is, of course, an old one, and the mum- 
mies of the Egyptians arose from an analogous supersti- 
tion. I answered him that his hand was already oflF, and 
asked him how he intended to preserve it. He replied that 
he would pickle it in salt and carry it about with him. I 
suggested that it might be safer in my keeping than in 
his, and that I had better means than salt for preserving 
it. On realizing that I really intended to carefully keep it, 
his opposition vanished instantly. * But remember, sahib,' 
said he, * I shall want it back when I am dead.' I laughed 
at the remark, and so the matter ended. I returned to my 
practice, and he no doubt in the course of time was able to 
continue his journey to Afghanistan. 

" Well, as I told you last night, I had a bad fire in my 



800 THE BROWN HAND 

house at Bombay. Half of it was burned down, and, among 
other things, my pathological collection was largely de- 
stroyed. What you see are the poor remains of it. The 
hand of the hilhnan went with the rest, but I gave the 
matter no particular thought at the time. That was six 
years ago. 

" Four years ago — two years after the fire — I was 
awakened one night by a furious tugging at my sleeve. 
I sat up under the impression that my favorite mastiff was 
trying to arouse me. Instead of this, I saw my Indian 
patient of long ago, dressed in the long gray gown which 
was the badge of his people. He was holding up his stump 
and looking reproachfuDy at me. He then went over to 
my bottles, which at the time I kept in my room, and he 
examined them carefully, after which he gave a gesture of 
anger and vanished. I realized that he had just died, and 
that he had come to claim my promise that I should keep 
his limb in safety for him. 

" Well, there you have it all, Dr. Hardacre. Every, 
night at the same hour for four years this performance has 
been repeated. It is a simple thing in itself, but it has worn 
me out like water dropping on a stone. It has brought a 
vile insomnia with it, for I cannot sleep now for the ex- 
pectation of his coming. It has poisoned my old age and 
that of my wife, who has been the sharer in this great 
trouble. But there is the breakfast gong, and she will be 
waiting impatiently to know how it fared with you last 
night. We are both much indebted to you for your gal- 
lantry, for it takes something from the weight of our 
misfortune when we share it, even for a single night, with 



THE BROWN HAND 801 

a friend, and it reassures us as to our sanity, which we are 
sometimes driven to question." 

This was the curious narrative which Sir Dominick con- 
fided to me — a story which to many would have ap- 
peared to be a grotesque impossibility, but which, after 
my experience of the night before, and my previous knowl- 
edge of such things, I was prepared to accept as an abso- 
lute fact. I thought deeply over the matter, and brought 
the whole range of my reading and experience to bear upon 
it. After breakfast, I surprised my host and hostess by an- 
nouncing that I was returning to London by the next 
train. 

" My dear doctor,*' cried Sir Dominick in great dis- 
tress, " you make me feel that I have been guilty of a 
gross breach of hospitality in intruding this unfortunate 
matter upon you. I should have borne my own burden." 

" It is, indeed, that matter which is taking me to Lon- 
don," I answered ; " but you are mistaken, I assure you, if 
you think that my experience of last night was an un- 
pleasant one to me. On the contrary, I am about to ask 
your permission to return in the evening and spend one 
more night in your laboratory. I am very eager to see this 
visitor once again." 

My uncle was exceedingly anxious to know what I was 
about to do, but my fears of raising false hopes prevented 
me from telling him. I was back in my own consulting- 
room a little after luncheon, and was confirming my mem- 
ory of a passage in a recent book upon occultism which 
had arrested my attention when I read it. 

" In the case of earth-bound spirits," said my authority, 



802 THE BROWN HAND 

** some one dominant idea obsessing them at the hour of 
death is sufficient to hold them to this material world. 
They are the amphibia of this life and of the next, capable 
of passing from one to the other as the turtle passes from 
land to water. The causes which may bind a soul so 
strongly to a life which its body has abandoned are any 
violent emotion. Avarice, revenge, anxiety, love, and pity 
have all been known to have this effect. As a rule it springs 
from some unfulfilled wish, and when the wish has been ful- 
filled the material bond relaxes. There are many cases 
upon record which show the singular persistence of these 
visitors, and also their disappearance when their wishes 
have been fulfilled, or in some cases when a recusonable com- 
promise has been effected." 

" A reasonable compromise effected " — those were the 
words which I had brooded over all the morning, and which 
I now verified in the original. No actual atonement could 
be made here — but a reasonable compromise ! I made my 
way as fast as a train could take me to the Shadwell 
Seamen's Hospital, where my old friend Jack Hewett 
was house-surgeon. Without explaining the situation 
I made him understand exactly what it was that I 
wanted. 

" A brown man's hand ! " said he, in amazement. " What 
in the world do you want that for? " 

" Never mind. I'll tell you some day. I know that your 
wards are full of Indians." 

" I should think so. But a hand — " He thought a little 
and then struck a bell. 

" Travers," said he to a student-dresser, " what became 
of the hands of the Lascar which we took off yesterday? I 



THE BROWN HAND 303 

mean the fellow from the East India Dock who got caught 
in the steam winch." 

" They are in the post-mortem room, sir." 

" Just pack one of them in antiseptics and give it to 
Dr. Hardacre.'^ 

And so I found myself back at Rodenhurst before din- 
ner with this curious outcome of my day in town. I still 
said nothing to Sir Dominick, but I slept that night in the 
laboratory, and I placed the Lascar's hand in one of the 
glass jars at the end of my couch. 

So interested was I in the result of my experiment that 
sleep was out of the question. I sat with a shaded lamp be- 
side me and waited patiently for my visitor. This time I 
saw him clearly from the first. He appeared beside the 
door, nebulous for an instant, and then hardening into as 
distinct an outline as any living man. The slippers be- 
neath his gray gown were red and heelless, which accounted 
for the low, shuffling sound which he made as he walked. 
As on the previous night he passed slowly along the line of 
bottles until he paused before that which contained the 
hand. He reached up to it, his whole figure quivering with 
expectation, took it down, examined it eagerly, and then, 
with a face which was convulsed with fury and disappoint- 
ment, he hurled it down on the floor. There was a crash 
which resounded through the house, and when I looked up 
the mutilated Indian had disappeared. A moment later my 
door flew open and Sir Dominick rushed in. 

" You are not hurt? " he cried. 

" No — but deeply disappointed." 

He looked in astonishment at the splinters of glass, and 
the brown hand lying upon the floor. 



804 THE BROWN HAND 

, " Good Goct! " he cried. " What is this? " 

I told him my idea and its wretched sequel. He listened 
intently, but shook his head. 

" It was well thought of," said he, « but I fear that there 
is no. such easy end to my sufferings. But one thing I now 
insist upon. It is that you shall never again upon any pre- 
text occupy this room. My fears that something might 
have happened to you — when I heard that crash — have 
been the most acute of all the agonies which I have under- 
gone. I will not expose myself to a repetition of it.'* 

He allowed me, however, to spend the remainder of that 
night where I was, and I lay there worrying over the prob- 
lem and lamenting my own failure. With the first light of 
morning there was the Lascar's hand still lying upon the 
floor to remind me of my fiasco. I lay looking at it — and 
as I lay suddenly an idea flew like a bullet through ^my 
head and brought me quivering with excitement out of my 
couch. I raised the grim relic from where it had fallen. 
Yes, it was indeed so. The hand was the left hand of the 
Lascar. 

By the first train I was on my way to town, and hur- 
ried at once to the Seamen's Hospital. I remembered that 
both hands of the Lascar had been amputated, but I was 
terrified lest the precious organ which I was in search of 
might have been already consumed in the crematory. My 
suspense was soon ended. It had still been preserved in the 
post-mortem room. And so I returned to Rodenhurst in the 
evening with my mission accomplished and the material for 
a fresh experiment. 

But Sir Dominick Holden would not hear of my occu- 
pying the laboratory again. To all my entreaties he turned 



THE BROWN HAND 805 

a deaf ear. It offended his sense of hospitality, and he 
could no longer permit it. I left the hand, therefore, as I 
had done its fellow the night before, and I occupied a 
comfortable bedroom in another portion of the house, 
some distance from the scene of my adventures. 

But in spite of that my sleep was not destined to be un- 
interrupted. In the dead of night my host burst into my 
room, a lamp in his hand. His huge gaunt figure was en- 
veloped in a loose dressing-gown, and his whole appear- 
ance might certainly have seemed more formidable to a 
weak-nerved man than that of the Indian of the night be- 
fore. But it was not his entrance so much as his expression 
which amazed me. He had turned suddenly younger by 
twenty years at the least. His eyes were shining, his features 
radiant, and he waved one hand in triumph over his head. I 
sat up astounded, staring sleepily at this extraordinary 
visitor. But his words soon drove the sleep from my eyes. 

" We have done it ! We have succeeded ! " he shouted. 
" My dear Hardacre, how can I ever in this world repay 
you?" 

" You don't mean to say that it is all right? " 

** Indeed I do. I was sure that you would not mind being 
awakened to hear such blessed news." 

" Mind ! I should think not indeed. But is it really cer- 
tain?" 

" I have no doubt whatever upon the point. I owe you 
such a debt, my dear nephew, as I have never owed a man 
before, and never expected to. What can I possibly do for 
you that is commensurate? Providence must have sent you 
to my rescue. You have saved both my reason and my life, 
for another six months of this must have seen me either in a 



806 THE BROWN HAND 

cell or a cc^n. And my wife — it was wearing her out be- 
fore my eyes. Never could I have believed that any human 
being could have lifted this burden off me." He seized my 
hand and wrung it in his bony grip. 

** It was only an experiment — a forlorn hope — but I 
am delighted from my heart that it has succeeded. But how 
do you know that it is all right? Have you seen some- 
thing? ♦' 

He seated himself at the foot of my bed. 

** I have seen enough," said he. " It satisfies me that I 
shall be troubled no more. What has passed is easily told. 
You know that at a certain hour this creature always comes 
to me. To-night he arrived at the usual time, and aroused 
me with even more violence than is his custom. I can only 
surmise that his disappointment of last night increased 
the bitterness of his anger against me. He looked angrily 
at me, and then went on his usual round. But in a few min- 
utes I saw him, for the first time since this persecution be- 
gan, return to my chamber. He was smiling. I saw the 
gleam of his white teeth through the dim light. He stood 
facing me at the end of my bed, and three times he made 
the low Eastern salaam which is their solemn leave-taking. 
And the third time that he bowed he raised his arms over 
his head, and I saw his two hands outstretched in the air. 
So he vanished, and, as I believe, for ever.-'' 

So that is the curious exi)erience which won me the af- 
fection and the gratitude of my celebrated uncle, the 
famous Indian surgeon. His anticipations were realized, 
and never again was he disturbed by the visits of the rest- 
less hillman in search of his lost member. Sir Dominick 



THE BROWN HAND 307 

and Lady Holden spent a very happy old age, unclouded, 
so far as I know, by any trouble, and they finally died dur- 
ing the great influenza epidemic within a few weeks of 
each other. In his lifetime he always turned to me for ad- 
vice in everything which concerned that English life of 
which he knew so Httle; and I aided him also in the pur- 
chase and development of his estates. It was no great sur- 
prise to me, therefore, that I found myself eventually pro- 
moted over the heads of five exasperated cousins, and 
changed in a single day from a hard-working country doc- 
tor into the head of an important Wiltshire family. I at 
least have reason to bless the memory of the man with the 
brown hand, and the day when I was fortunate, enough to 
relieve Rodenhurst of his unwelcome presence. 



THE FIEND OF THE COOPERAGE 

IT was no easy matter to bring the Gamecock up to the 
island, for the river had swept down so much silt that 
the banks extended for many miles out into the At- 
lantic. The coast was hardly to be seen when the first 
white curl of the breakers warned us of our danger, and 
from there onwards ^e made our way very carefully under 
mainsail and jib, keeping the broken water well to the left, 
as is indicated on the chart. More than once her bottom 
touched the sand (we were drawing s<Mnething under six 
feet at the time), but we had always way enough and luck 
enough to carry us through. Finally, the water shoaled 
very rapidly, but they had sent a canoe from the factory, 
and the Krooboy pilot brought us within two hundred 
yards of the island. Here we dropped our anchor, for the 
gestures of the negro indicated that we could not hope to 
get any farther. The blue of the sea had changed to the 
brown of the river, and even under the shelter of the 
island the current was singing and swirling round our 
bows. The stream appeared to be in spate, for it was over 
the roots of the palm trees, and everywhere upon its muddy, 
greasy surface we could see logs of wood and debris of 
all sorts which had been carried down by the flood. 

When I had assured myself that we swung securely at 
our moorings, I thought it best to begin watering at once, 

308 



THE FIEND OF THE COOPERAGE 809 

for the place looked as if it reeked with fever. The heavy 
river, the muddy, shining banks, the bright poisonous 
green of the jungle, the moist steam in the air, they were 
all so many danger signals to one who could read them. I 
sent the long-boat off, therefore, with two large hogsheads, 
which should be sufficient to last us until we made St. Paul 
de Loanda. For my own part I took the dinghy and rowed 
for the island, for I could see the Union Jack fluttering 
above the palms to mark the position of Armitage and Wil- 
son's trading station. 

When I had cleared the grove, I could see the place, a 
long, low, whitewashed building, with a deep verandah in 
front, "and an immense pile of palm oil barrels heaped upon 
either flank of it. A row of surf boats and canoes lay along 
the beach, and a single small jetty projected into the river. 
Two men in white suits with red cummerbunds round their 
waists were waiting upon the end of it to receive me. One 
was a large portly fellow with a grayish beard. The other 
was slender and tall, with a pale, pinched face, which was 
half -concealed by a great mushroom-shaped hat. 

" Very glad to see you," said the latter, cordially. " I 
am Walker, the agent of Armitage and Wilson. Let me in- 
troduce Dr. Sever^ of the same company. It is not often 
we see a private yacht in these parts." 

" She's the Gamecocky'^ I explained. " I'm owner and 
captain — Meldrum is the name." 

" Exploring? " he asked. 
" I'm a lepidopterist — a butterfly-catcher. I've been 
doing the west coast from Senegal downwards." 

" Good sport? " asked the doctor, turning a slow, yellow- 
shot eye upon me. 



810 THE FIEND OF THE COOPERAGE 

" I have forty cases full. We came in here to water, 
and also to see what you have in my line." 

These introductions and explanations had filled up the 
lime whilst my two Krooboys were making the dinghy fast. 
Then I walked down the jetty with one of my new ac- 
quaintances upon either side, each plying me with ques- 
tions, for they had seen no white man for months. 

" What do we do.? " said the Doctor, when I had begun 
asking questions in my turn. " Our business keeps us 
pretty busy, and in our leisure time we talk politics." 

** Yes, by the special mercy of Providence Severall is a 
rank Radical and I am a good stiff Unionist, and we talk 
Home Rule for two solid hours every evening." 

" And drink quinine cocktails," said the Doctor.** We're 
both pretty well salted now, but our normal temperature 
was about 103 last year. I shouldn't, as an impartial ad- 
viser, recommend you to stay here very long unless you 
are collecting bacilli as well as butterflies. The mouth of 
the Ogowai River will never develop into a health resort." 

There is nothing finer than the way in which these 
outlying pickets of civilization distil a grim humor out 
of their desolate situation, and turn not only a bold, but 
a laughing face upon the chances which their lives may 
bring. Everywhere from Sierra Leone downwards I had 
found the same reeking swamps, the same isolated fever- 
racked communities and the same bad jokes. There is 
something approaching to the divine in that power of 
man to rise above his conditions and to use his mind for 
the purpose of mocking at the miseries of his body. 

" Dinner will be ready In about half an hour. Captain 
Meldrum," said the Doctor. " Walker has gone in to see 



THE FIEND OF THE COOPERAGE 311 

about it; he's the housekeeper this week. Meanwhile, if 
you like, we'll stroll round and I'll show you the sights 
of the island." 

The sun had already sunk beneath the line of palm 
trees, and the great arch of the heaven above our head 
was like the inside of a huge shell, shimmering with dainty 
pinks and delicate iridescence. No one who has not lived 
in a land where the weight and heat of a napkin become 
intolerable upon the knees can imagine the blessed relief 
which the coolness of evening brings along with it. In 
this sweeter and purer air the Doctor and I walked round 
the little island, he pointing oiit the stores, and explaining 
the routine of his work. 

" There's a certain romance about the place," said he, 
in answer to some remark of mine about the dullness of 
their lives. " We are living here just upon the edge of 
the great unknown. Up there," he continued, pointing to 
the north-east, " Du Chaillu penetrated, and found the 
home of the gorilla. That is the Gaboon country — the 
land of the great apes. In this direction," pointing to the 
south-east, " no one has been very far. The land which is 
drained by this river is practically unknown to Europeans. 
Every log which is carried past us by the current has 
come from an undiscovered country. I've often wished that 
I was a better botanist when I have seen the singular or- 
chids and curious-looking plants which have been cast up 
on the eastern end of the island." 

The place which the Doctor indicated was a sloping 
brown beach, freely littered with the flotsam of the stream. 
At each end was a curved point, like a little natural break- 
water, so that a small shallow bay was left between. This 



81« THE FIEND OF THE COOPERAGE 

was full of floating vegetation, with a single huge splin- 
tered tree lying stranded in the middle of it, the current 
rippling against its high black side. 

" These are all from up country," said the Doctor. 
" They get caught in our little bay, and then when some 
extra freshet comes they are washed out again and carried 
out to sea." 

" What is the tree? " I asked. 

" Oh, some kind of teak I should imagine, but pretty 
rotten by the look of it. We get all sorts of big hardwood 
trees floating past here, to say nothing of the palms. 
Just come in here, will you ? " 

He led the way into a long building with an inunense 
quantity of barrel staves and inm hoops littered about 
in it. 

" This is our coopef^ge^ " said he. " We have the staves 
sent out in bundles, and we put them together ourselves. 
Now, you don't see anything particularly sinister about 
this building, do you? " 

I looked round at the high corrugated iron roof, the 
white wooden walls, and the earthen floor. In one comer 
lay a mattress and a blanket. 

" I see nothing very alarming," said I. 

" And yet there's something out of the common, too," 
he remarked. " You see that bed ? Well, I intend to sleep 
there to-night. I don't want to buck, but I think it's a 
bit of a test for nerve." 

"Why?" 

" Oh, there have been some funny goings on. You were 
talking about the monotony of our lives, but I assure you 
that they are sometimes quite as exciting as we wish them 



THE FIEND OF THE COOPERAGE 313 

to be. You'd better come back to the house now, for 
after sundown we begin to get the fever-fog up from the 
marshes. There, you can see it coming across the river." 

I looked and saw long tentacles of white vapor writhing 
out from among the thick green underwood and crawling 
at us over the broad swirling surface of the brown river. 
At the same time the air turned suddenly dank and cold. 

" There's the dinner gong," said the Doctor. " If this 
matter interests you I'll tell you about it afterwards." 

It did interest me very much, for there was something 
earnest and subdued in his manner as he stood in the empty 
cooperage which appealed very forcibly to my imagina- 
tion. He was a big, bluff, hearty man, this Doctor, and 
yet I had detected a curioijg. expression in his eyes as he 
glanced about him — an expression which I would not 
describe as one of fear, but rather that of a man who is 
alert and on his guard. 

" By the way," said I, as we returned to the house, " you 
have shown me the huts of a good many of your native 
assistants, but I have not seen any of the natives them- 
selves." 

" They sleep in the hulk over yonder," the Doctor an- 
swered, pointing over to one of the banks. 

" Indeed. I should not have thought in that case that 
they would need the huts." 

" Oh, they used the huts until quite recently. We've 
put them on the hulk until they recover their confidence 
a little. They were all half mad with fright, so we let 
them go, and nobody sleeps on the island except Walker 
and myself." 

" What frightened them ? " I asked. 



814 THE FIEND OF THE COOPERAGE 

** Well, that brings us back to the same story. I sup- 
pose Walker has no objection to your hearing all about 
it. I don't know why we should make any secret about 
it, though it is certainly a pretty bad business." 

He made no further allusion to it during the excellent 
dinner which had been prepared in my honor. It appeared 
that no sooner had the little white topsail of the Gamecock 
shown round Cape Lopez than these kind fellows had 
begun to prepare their famous pepper-pot — which is the 
pungent stew peculiar to the West Coast — and to boil 
their yams and sweet potatoes. We sat down to as good a 
native dinner as one could wish, served by a smart Sierra 
Leone waiting boy. I was just remarking to myself that 
he at least had not shared in the general flight when, 
having laid the dessert and wine upon the table, he raised 
his hand to his turban. 

"Anything else I do, Massa Walker?'' he asked. 

" No, I think that is all right, Moussa," my host an- 
swered. " I am not feeling very well to-night, though, and 
I should much prefer if you would stay on the island." 

I saw a struggle between his fears and his duty upon 
the swarthy face of the African. His skin had turned of 
that livid purplish tint which stands for pallor in a negro, 
and his eyes looked furtively about him. 

" No, no, Massa Walker," he cried, at last, " you better 
come to the hulk with me, sah. Look after you much better 
in the hulk, sah!" 

" That won't do, Moussa. White men don't run away 
from the posts where they are placed." 

Again I saw the passionate struggle in the negro's face, 
and again his fears prevailed. 



THE FIEND OF THE COOPERAGE 315 

" No use, Massa Walker, sah ! " he cried. " S'elp me, 
I can't do it. If it was yesterday or if it was to-morrow, 
but this is the third night, sah, an' it's more than I can 
face." 

Walker shrugged his shoulders. 

" Off with you then ! " said he. '* When the mail-boat 
comes you can get back to Sierra Leone, for I'll have no 
servant who deserts me when I need him most. I suppose 
this is all mystery to you, or has the Doctor told you. 
Captain Meldrum? " 

" I showed Captain Meldrum the cooperage, but I did 
not tell him anything," said Dr. Severall. ** You're look- 
ing bad. Walker," he added, glancing at his companion. 
" You have a strong touch coming on you." 

" Yes, I've had the shivers all day, and now my head 
is like a cannon-ball. I took ten grains of quinine, and 
my ears are singing like a kettle. But I want to sleep 
with you in the cooperage to-night." 

" No, no, my dear chap. I won't hear of such a thing. 
You must get to bed at once, and I am sure Meldrum 
will excuse you. I shall sleep in the cooperage, and I 
promise you that I'll be round with your medicine before 
breakfast." 

It was evident that Walker had been struck by one of 
those sudden and violent attacks of remittent fever which 
are the curse of the West Coast. His sallow cheeks were 
flushed and his eyes shining with fever, and suddenly as 
he sat there he began to croon out a song in the high- 
pitched voice of delirium. 

** Come, come, we must get you to bed, old chap," said 
the Doctor, and with my aid he led his friend into his 



316 THE FIEND OF THE COOPERAGE 

bedroom. There we undressed him, and presently, after 
taking a strong sedative, he settled down into a deep 
slumber. 

"He's right for the night," said the Doctor, as we 
sat down and filled our glasses once more. *^ Some times it 
is my turn and sometimes his, but, fortunately, we have 
never been down together. I should have been sorry to be 
out of it to-night, for I have a little mystery to unravel. 
I told you that I intended to sleep in the cooperage." 

** Yes, you said so." 

"When I said sleep I meant watch, for there will be 
no sleep for me. We've had such a scare here that no 
native will stay after sundown, and I mean to find out 
to-night what the cause of it all may be. It has always 
been the custom for a native watchman to sleep in the 
cooperage, to prevent the barrel hoops being stolen. Well, 
six days ago the fellow who slept there disappeared, and 
we have never seen a trace of him since. It was certainly 
singular, for no canoe had been taken, and these waters 
are too full of crocodiles for any man to swim to shore. 
What became of the fellow, or how he could have left 
the island is a complete mystery. Walker and I were merely 
surprised, but the blacks were badly scared, and queer 
Voodoo tales began to get about amongst them. But the 
real stampede broke out three nights ago, when the new 
watchman in the cooperage also disappeared." 

" What became of him? " I asked. 

** Well, we not only don't know, but we can't even give 
a guess which would fit the facts. The nigfi^ers swear there 
is a fiend in the cooperage who claims a man every third 
night. They wouldn't stay in the island — nothing could 



THE FIEND OF THE COOPERAGE 317 

persuade them. Even Moussa, who is a faithful boy. 
enough, would, as you have seen, leave his m«ister in a 
fever rather than remain for the night. If we are to 
continue to run this place we must reassure our niggers, 
and I don't know any better way of doing it than by put- 
ting in a night there myself. This is the third night, you 
see, so I suppose the thing is due, whatever it may be." 

"Have you no clue?" I asked. ** Was there no mark 
of violence, no blood-stain, no footprints, nothing to give 
a hint as to what kind of danger you may have to meet? " 

** Absolutely nothing. The man was gone and that was 
all. Last time it was old Ali, who has been wharf -tender 
here since the place was started. He was always as steady 
as a rock, and nothing but foul play would take him 
from his work." 

"Well," said I, "I really don't think that this is a 
one-man job. Your friend is full of laudanum, and come 
what might he can be of no assistance to you. You must 
let me stay and put in a night with you at the cooperage." 

*' Well, now, that's very good of you, Meldrum," said 
he heartily, shaking my hand across the table. " It's not a 
thing that I should have ventured to propose, for it is 
asking a good deal of a casual visitor, but if you really 
mean it — " 

" Certainly I mean it. If you will excuse me a moment, 
I will hail the Gamecock and let them know that they need 
not expect me." 

As we came back from the other end of the little jetty 
we were both struck by the appearance of the night. A 
huge blue-black pile of clouds had built itself up upon 
the landward side, and the wind came from it in little 



818 THE FIEND OF THE COOPERAGE 

hot pants, which beat upon our faces like the draught from 
a blast furnace. Under the j^tty the river was swirlmg 
and hissing, tossing little white spurts of spray over 
the planking. 

"Confound it!" said Doctor Severall. "We are likely 
to have a flood on the top of all our troubles. That rise 
in the river means heavy rain up-country, and when it 
once begins you never know how far it will go. We've 
had the island nearly covered before now. Well, we'll just 
go and see that Walker is comfortable, and then if you 
like we'll settle down in our quarters." 

The sick man was sunk in a profound slumber, and 
we left him with some crushed limes in a glass beside him 
in case he should awake with the thirst of fever upon 
him. Then we made our way through the unnatural gloom 
thrown by that menacing cloud. The river had risen so 
high that the little bay which I have described at the end 
of the island had become almost obliterated through the 
submerging of its flanking peninsula. The great raft of 
driftwood, with the huge black tree in the middle, was 
swaying up and down in the swollen current. 

**That'8 one good thing a flood will do for us," said 
the Doctor. *' It carries away all the vegetable stuff which 
is brought down on the east end of the island. It came 
down with the freshet the other day, and here it will 
stay until a flood sweeps it out into the main stream. 
Well, here's our room, and here are some books, and here 
is my tobacco pouch, and we must try and put in the night 
as best we may." 

By the light of our single lantern the great lonely room 
looked very gaunt and dreary. Save for the piles of 



THE FIEND OF THE COOPERAGE 319 

staves and heaps of hoops there was absolutely nothing 
in it, with the exception of the mattress for the Doctor, 
which had been laid in the comer. We made a couple of 
seats and a table out of the staves, and settled down 
together for a long vigil. Severall had brought a revolver 
for me, and was himself armed with a double-barreled shot- 
gun. We loaded our weapons and laid them cocked within 
reach of our hands. The little circle of light and the black 
shadows arching over us were so melancholy that he went 
off to the bouse, and returned with two candles. One side 
of the cooperage was pierced, however, by several open 
windows, and it was only by screening our lights behind 
staves that we could prevent them from being extin- 
guished. 

The Doctor, who appeared to be a man of iron nerves, 
had settled down to a book, but I observed that every 
now and then he laid it upon his knee, and took an earnest 
look all round him. For my part, although I tried once or 
twice to read, I found it impossible to concentrate my 
thoughts upon the book. They would always wander back 
to this great empty silent room, and to the sinister mystery 
which overshadowed it. I racked my brains for some pos- 
sible theory which would explain the disappearance of 
these two men. There was the black fact that they were 
gone, and not the least tittle of evidence as to why or 
whither. And here we were waiting in the same place — 
waiting without an idea as to what we were waiting for. 
I was right in saying that it was not a one-man job. It 
was trying enough as it was, but no force upon earth 
would have kept me there without a comrade. 

What an endless, tedious night it was ! Outside we heard 



SaO THE FIEND OF THE COOPERAGE 

the lapping and gurgling of the great river, and the 
soughing of the rising wind. Within save for our breath- 
ing) the turning of the Doctor's pages, and the high, 
shrill ping of an occasional mosquito there was a heavy 
silence. Once my heart sprang into my mouth as Severall's 
book suddenly fell to the ground and he sprang to his 
feet with his eyes <mi one of the windows. 

"Did you see anything, Meldrum?" 

" No. Did you? " 

"Well, I had a vague sense of movement outside that 
window." He caught up his gun and approached it. " No, 
there's nothing to be seen, and yet I could have sworn 
that something passed slowly across it." 

" A palm leaf, perhaps," said I, for the wind was grow- 
ing stronger every instant. 

" Very likely," said he, and settled down to his book 
again, but his eyes were for ever darting little suspicious 
glances up at the window. I watched it also, but all was 
quiet outside. 

And then suddenly our thoughts were turned into a 
new direction by the bursting of the storm. A blinding 
flash was followed by a clap which shook the building. 
Again and again came the vivid white glare with thunder 
at the same instant, like the flash and roar of a monstrous 
piece of artillery. And then down came the tropical rain, 
crashing and rattling on the corrugated iron roofing of the 
cooperage. The big hollow room boomed like a drum. 
From the darkness arose a strange mixture of noises, a 
gurgling, splashing, tinkling, bubbling, washing, drip- 
ping — every liquid sound that nature can produce from 
the thrashing and swishing of the rain to the deep steady 



THE FIEND OF THE COOPERAGE 321 

boom of the river; Hour after hour the uproar grew 
louder and more sustained. 

" My word," said Several!, " we are going to have the 
father of all the floods this time. Well, here's the dawn 
coming at last and that is a blessing. We've about ex- 
ploded the third night superstition anyhow.'' 

A gray light was stealing through the room, and there 
was the day upon us in an instant. The rain had eased 
off, but the coffee-colored river was roaring past like a 
waterfall. Its power made me fear for the anchor of the 
Gamecock. 

" I must get aboard," said I. " If she drags she'll never 
be able to beat up the river again." 

" The island is as good as a breakwater," the Doctor 
answered. " I can give you a cup of coffee if you will 
come up to the house." 

I was chilled and miserable, so the suggestion was a 
welcome one. We left the ill-omened cooperage with its 
mystery still unsolved, and we splashed our way up to 
the house. 

" There's the spirit lamp," said Severall. " If you would 
just put a light to it, I will see how Walker feels this 
morning." 

He left me, but was back in an instant with a dreadful 
face. 

" He's gone ! " he cried hoarsely. 

The words sent a shrill of horror through me. I stood 
with the lamp in my hand, glaring at him. 

" Yes, he's gone ! " he repeated. " Come and look ! " 

I followed him without a word, and the first thing that 
I saw as I entered the bedroom was Walker himself lying 



322 THE FIEND OF THE COOPERAGE 

huddled on his bed in the gray flannel sleeping suit in 
which I had helped to dress him on the night before. 

** Not dead, surely ! " I gasped. 

The Doctor was terribly agitated. His hands were shak- 
ing like leaves in the wind. 

" He's been dead some hours." 

" Was it fever? " 

"Fever! Look at his foot!'' 

I glanced down and a cry of horror burst from my 
lips. One foot was not merely dislocated but was turned 
completely round in a most grote sue contortion. 

"Good God!" I cried. "What can have done this.?" 

Severall had laid his hand upon the dead man's chest. 

" Feel here," he whispered. 

I placed my hand at the same spot. There was no re- 
sistance. The body was absolutely soft and limp. It was 
like pressing a sawdust doll. 

" The breast-bone is gone," said Severall in the same 
awed whisper. " He's broken to bits. Thank God that he 
had the laudanum. You can see by his face that he died 
in his sleep." 

"But who can have done this?" 

" I've had about as much as I can stand," said the 
Doctor, wiping his forehead. '* I don't know that Fm a 
greater coward than my neighbors, but this gets beyond 
me. If you're going out to the Gamecock — " 

" Come on ! " said I, and off we started. If we did 
not run it was because each of us wished to keep up the 
last shadow of his self-respect before the other. It was 
dangerous in a light canoe on that swollen river, but we 
never paused to give the matter a thought. He bailing and 



THE FIEND OF THE COOPERAGE S23 

I paddling we kept her above water, and gained the deck 
of the yacht. There, with two hundred yards of water 
between us and this cursed island, we felt that we were 
our own men once more. 

" We'll go back in an hour or so," said he. " But we 
need a little time to steady ourselves. I wouldn't have had 
the niggers see me as I was just now for a year's salary." 

" I've told the steward to prepare breakfast. Then we 
shall go back," said I. " But in God's name, Doctor 
Severall, what do you make of it all." 

" It beats me — beats me clean. I've heard of Voodoo 
devilry, and I've laughed at it with the others. But that 
poor old Walker, a decent. God-fearing, nineteenth-cen- 
tury, Primrose-League Englishman, should go under like 
this without a whole bone in his body — it's given me a 
shake, I won't deny it. But look there, Meldrum, is that 
hand of yours mad or drunk, or what is it.? " 

Old Patterson, the oldest man of my crew, and as 
steady as the Pyramids, had been stationed in the bows with 
a boat-hook to fend off the drifting logs which came 
sweeping down with the current. Now he stood with 
crooked knees, glaring out in front of him, and one fore- 
finger stabbing furiously at the air. 

"Look at it!" he yelled. "Look at it!" 

And at the same instant we saw it. 

A huge black tree trunk was coming down the river, 
its broad glistening back just lapped by the water. And 
in front of it — about three feet in front — arching up- 
wards like the figure-head of a ship, there hung a dreadful 
face, swaying slowly from side to side. It was flattened, 
malignant, as large as a small beer-barrel, of a faded 



824 THE FIEND OF THE COOPERAGE 

fungoid color, but tbe neck which supported it was mot- 
tled with a dull yellow and black. As it flew past the 
Gamecock in the swirl of the waters I saw two immense 
coils roll up out of some great hollow in the tree, and 
the villainous head rose suddenly to the height of eight or 
ten feet, looking with dull, skin-covered eyes at the yacht. 
An instant later the tree had shot past us and was plung- 
ing with its hory ilyle p^ssen^r towards the Atlantic. 

"What was it?" I cried. 

" It is our fiend of the cooperage," said Dr. Severall, 
and he had beccHne in an instant the same bluff, self-con- 
fident man that he had been before. '* Yes, that is the devil 
who has been haunting our island. It is the great python 
of the Gaboon." 

I thought of the stories which I had heard all down 
the coast of the monstrous constrictors of the interior, 
of the periodical appetite, and of the murderous effects of 
their deadly squeeze. Then it all took shape in my mind. 
There had been a freshet the week before. It had brought 
down this huge hollow tree with its hideous occupant. 
Who knows from what far distant tropical forest it may 
have come. It had been stranded on the little east bay of 
the island. The cooperage had been the nearest house. 
Twice with the return of- its appetite it had carried oflF 
the watchman. Last night it had doubtless come again, 
when Severall had thought he saw something move at the 
window, but our lights had driven it away. It had writhed 
onwards and had slain poor Walker in his sleep. 

" Why did it not carry him off ? " I asked. 

** The thunder and lightning must have scared the brute 



THE FIEND OF THE COOPERAGE 325 

away. There's your steward, Meldrum* The sooner we 
have breakfast and get back to the island the better, or 
some of those niggers might think that we had been fright- 
ened." 



JELLAND'S VOYAGE 

^^'W IjT TELL,'* said our Anglo- Jap as we all drew up 
%/%/ our chairs round the smoking-room fire, 
▼ ▼ " it's an old tale out yonder, and may have 
spilt over Into print for all I know. I don't want to turn 
this club-room into a chestnut stall, but it is a long way to 
the Yellow Sea, and it is just as likely that none of you 
have ever heard of the yawl Matilda^ and of what haj)- 
pened to Henry Jelland and Willy McEvoy aboard of her. 

" The middle of the sixties was a stirring time out in 
Japan. That was just after the Simonosaki bombardment, 
and before the Daimio afi^air. There was a Tory party and 
there was a Liberal party among the natives, and the ques- 
tion that they were wrangling over was whether the throats 
of the foreigners should be cut or not. I tell you all, 
politics have been tame to me since then. If you lived 
in a treaty port, you were bound to wake up and take 
an interest in them. And to make it better, the outsider 
had no way of knowing how the game was going. If the 
opposition won it would not be a newspaper paragraph that 
would tell him of it, but a good old Tory in a suit of 
chain mail, with a sword in each hand, would drop in and 
let him know all about it in a single upper cut. 

" Of course it makes men reckless when they are living 
on the edge of a volcano like that. Just at first they are 
very jumpy, and then there comes a time when they learn 

326 



JELLAND'S VOYAGE 327 

to enjoy life while they have it. I tell you, there's nothing 
makes life so beautiful as when the shadow of death begins 
to fall across it. Time is too precious to be dawdled away 
then, and a man lives every minute of it. That was the 
way with us in Yokohama. There were many European 
places of business which had to go on running, and the men 
who worked them made the place lively for seven nights 
in the week. 

" One of the heads of the European colony was Ran- 
dolph Moore, the big export merchant. His offices were 
in Yokohama, but he spent a good deal of his time at his 
house up in Jeddo, which had only just been opened to 
the trade. In his absence he used to leave his affairs in 
the hands of his head clerk, Jelland, whom he knew to be 
a man of great energy and resolution. But energy and 
resolution are two-edged things, you know, and when they 
are used against you you don't appreciate them so much. 

" It was gambling that set Jelland wrong. He was a 
little dark-eyed fellow with black curly hair — more than 
three-quarters Celt, I should imagine. Every night in the 
week you would see him in the same place, on the left-hand 
side of the cropier at Matheson's rouge et noir table. For 
a long time he won, and lived in better style than his 
employer. And then came a turn of luck, and he began to 
lose so that at the end of a single week his partner and 
he were stone broke, without a dollar to their names. 

" This partner was a clerk in the employ of the same 
firm — a tall, straw-haired young Englishman called 
McEvoy. He was a good boy enough at the start, but 
he was clay in the hands of Jelland, who fashioned him 
into a kind of weak model of himself. They were for ever 



328 JELLAND'S VOYAGE 

on the prowl together, but it was Jelland who led and 
McEvoy who followed. Lynch and I and one or two others 
tried to show the youngster that he could come to no good 
along that line, and when we were talking to him we could 
win him round easily enough, but five minutes of Jelland 
would swing him back again. It may have been animal 
magnetism or what you like, but the little man could pull 
the big one along like a sixty-foot tug in front of a full- 
rigged ship. Even when they had lost all their money they 
would still take their places at the table and look on with 
shining eyes when any one else was raking in the stamps. 

** But one evening they could keep out of it no longer. 
Red had turned up sixteen times running, and it was more 
than Jelland could bear. He whispered to McEvoy, and 
then said a word to the croupier. 

** * Certainly, Mr. Jelland ; your cheque is as good as 
notes,' said he. 

*^ Jelland scribbled a cheque and threw it on the black. 
The card was the king of hearts, and the croupier raked 
in the little bit of paper. Jelland grew angry and McEvoy 
white. Another and a heavier cheque was written and 
thrown on the table. The card was the nine of diamonds. 
McEvoy leaned his head upon his hands and looked as if 
he would faint. ' By God ! ' growled Jelland, * I won't be 
beat,' and he threw on a cheque that covered the other two. 
The card was the deuce of hearts. A few minutes later 
they were walking down the Bund, with the cool night-air 
playing upon their fevered faces. 

" * Of course you know what this means,' said Jelland, 
lighting a cheroot ; * we'll have to transfer some of the 
office money to our current account. There's no occasion 



JELLAND^S VOYAGE 329 

to make a fuss over it. Old Moore won't look over the 
books before Easter. If we have any luck, we can easily 
replace it before then.' 

" * But if we have no luck? ' faltered McEvoy. 

" ' Tut, man, we must take things as they come. You 
stick to me, and 1*11 stick to you, and we'll pull through 
together. You shall sign the cheques to-morrow night, and 
we shall see if your luck is better than mine.' 

" But if anything it was worse. When the pair rose 
from the table on the following evening, they had spent 
over £5,000 of their employer's money. But the resolute 
Jelland was as sanguine as ever. 

" ' We have a good nine weeks before us before the books 
will be examined,' said he. 'We must play the game out, 
and it will all come straight.' 

" McEvoy returned to his rooms that night in an agony 
of shame and remorse. When he was with Jelland he bor- 
rowed strength from him; but alone he recognized the 
full danger of his position, and the vision of his old 
white-capped mother in England, who had been so proud 
when he received his appointment, rose up before him to 
fill him with loathing and madness. He was still tossing 
upon his sleepless couch when his Japanese servant entered 
the bedroom. For an instant McEvoy thought that the 
long-expected outbreak had come, and plunged for his 
revolver. Then, with his heart in his mouth, he listened 
to the message which the servant had brought. 

" Jelland was downstairs, and wanted to see him. 

" What on earth could he want at that hour of night.? 
McEvoy dressed hurriedly and rushed downstairs. His 
companion, with a set smile upon his lips, which was belied 



8S0 JELLAND'S VOYAGE 

by the ghastly pallor of his face, was sitting in the dim 
light of a solitary candle, with a slip of paper in his 
hands. 

" * Sorry to knock you up, Willy,* said he. ' No eaves- 
droppers, I suppose?' 

^^ McEvoy shook his head. He could not trust himself 
to speak. 

" * Well, then, our little game is played out. This note 
was waiting for me at home. It is from Moore, and 
says that he will be down on Monday morning for an 
examination of the books. It leaves us in a tight place.' 

** * Monday ! ' gasped McEvoy ; * to-day is Friday.' 

** * Saturday, my son, and 8 a.m. We have not much 
time to turn round in.' 

" * We are lost ! ' screamed McEvoy. 

** * We soon will be, if you make such an infernal row,' 
said Jelland harshly. * Now do what I tell you, Willy, and 
we'll pull through yet.' 

" ' I will do anything — anything.' 

"* That's better. Where's your whisky? It's a beastly 
time of the day to have to get your back stiff, but there 
must be no softness with us, or we are gone. First of all, 
I think there is something due to our relations, don't you? ' 

" McEvoy stared. 

" * We must stand or fall together, you know. Now 
I, far one, don't intend to set my foot inside a felon's 
dock under any circumstances. D'ye see? I'm ready to 
swear to that. Are you? ' 

" * What d'you mean? ' asked McEvoy, shrinking back. 

" * Why, man, we all have to die, and it's only the 
pressing of a trigger. I swear that I shall never be taken 



JELLAND'S VOYAGE SSI 

alive. Will you? If you don't I leave you to your 
fate.' 

" * All right. I'll do whatever you think best.' 

"* You swear it? ' 

"'Yes.' 

" * Well, mind, you must be as good as your word. 
Now we have two clear days to get off in. The yawl 
Matilda is on sale, and she has all her fixings and plenty 
of tinned stuff aboard. We'll buy the lot to-morrow morn- 
ing, and whatever we want, and get away in her. But, 
first, we'll clear all that is left in the office. There are 6,000 
sovereigns in the safe. After dark we'll get them aboard 
the yawl, and take our chance of reaching California. 
There's no use hesitating, my son, f or we have no ghost 
of a look-in in any other direction. It's that or nothing.' 

" * I'll do what you advise.' 

" * All right ; and mind you get a bright face on you 
to-morrow, for if Moore gets the tip and comes before 
Monday, then — ^ He tapped the side-pocket of his coat 
and looked across at his partner with eyes that were full 
of a sinister meaning. 

" All went well with their plans next day. The Matilda 
was bought without difficulty ; and, though she was a tiny 
craft for so long a voyage, had she been larger two men 
could not have hoped to manage her. She was stocked with 
water during the day, and after dark the two clerks brought 
down the money from the office and stowed it in the hold. 
Before midnight they had collected all their own posses- 
sions without exciting suspicion, and at two in the morn- 
ing they left their moorings and stole quietly out from 
among the shipping. They were seen, of course, and were 



88« JELLAND'S VOYAGE 

set down as keen yachtsmen who were on for a good lon^ 
Sunday cruise; but there was no one who dreamed that 
that cruise would only end either on the American coast 
or at the bottom of the North Pacific Ocean. Straining 
and hauling, they got their mainsail up and set their 
foresail and jib. There was a slight breeze from the south- 
east, and the little craft went dipping along upon her way. 
Seven miles from land, however, the wind fell away and 
they lay becalmed, rising and falling on the long swell 
of a glassy sea. All Sunday they did not make a mile, 
and in the evening Yokohama still lay along the horizon. 

" On Monday morning down came Randolph Moore 
from Jeddo, and made straight for the offices. He had 
had the tip from some <Mie that his clerks had been spread- 
ing themselves a bit, and that had made him come down 
out of his usual routine ; but when he reached his place and 
found the three juniors waiting in the street with their 
hands in their pockets he knew that the matter was serious. 

"'What's this?' he asked. He was a man of action, 
and a nasty chap to deal with when he had his topmasts 
lowered. 

" * We can't get in,' said the clerks. 

"*WhereisMr. Jelland?' 

" * He has not come to-day.' 

"*And Mr. McEvoy?' 

" * He has not come either.' 

" Randolph Moore looked serious. * We must have the 
door down,' said he. 

" They don't build houses very solid in that land of 
earthquakes, and in a brace of shakes they were all in 
the office. Of course the thing told its own story. The 



JELLAND*S VOYAGE 333 

safe was open, the money gone, and the clerks fled. Their 
employer lost no time in talk. 

" * Where were they seen last? ' 

" * On Saturday they bought the Matilda and started 
for a cruise.' 

" Saturday ! The matter seemed hopeless if they had 
got two days* start. But there was still the shadow of' a 
chance. He rushed to the beach and swept the ocean with 
his glasses. 

" ' My God ! ' he cried. * There's the Matilda out yon- 
der. I know her by the rake of her mast. I have my hand 
uix)n the villains after all ! ' 

" But there was a hitch even then. No boat had steam 
up, and the eager merchant had not patience to wait. 
Clouds were banking up along the haunch of the hills, 
and there was every sign of an approaching change of 
weather. A police boat was ready with ten armed men 
in her, and Randolph Moore himself took the tiller as 
she shot out in pursuit of the becalmed yawl. 

" Jelland and McEvoy, waiting wearily for the breeze 
which never came, saw the dark speck which sprang out 
from the shadow of the land and grew larger with every 
swish of the oars. As she drew nearer, they could see also 
that she was packed with men, and the gleam of weapons 
told what manner of men they were. Jelland stood leaning 
against the tiller, and he looked at the threatening sky, 
the limp sails, and the approaching boat. 

" * It's a case with us, Willy,' said he. * By the Lord, 
we are two most unlucky devils, for there's wind in that 
sky, and another hour would have brought it to us.' 

** McEvoy groaned. 



SS^ JELLAND'S VOYAGE 

"* There's no good softening over it, my lad,' said 
JeUand. 'It's the police boat right enough, and there's 
old Moore driving them to row like hell. It'U be a ten- 
dollar job for every man of them.' 

"Willy McEvoy crouched against the side with his 
knees on the deck. *My mother! my jKwr old mother!' 
he sobbed. 

** • She'll never hear that you have been in the dock 
anyway," said JeUand. * My people never did much for 
me, but I will do that much for them. It's no good, Mac. 
We can chuck our hands. God bless you, old man! Here's 
the pistol!' 

**He cocked the revolver and held the butt towards 
the youngster. But the other shrunk away from it with 
little gasps and cries. Jelland glanced at the approaching 
boat. It was not more than a few hundreds yards away. 

** * There's no time for nonsense,' said he. ' Damn it ! 
man, what's the use of flinching. You swore it ! ' 

"*No, no, JeUand!' 

" * Well, anyhow, I swore that neither of us should be 
taken. WiU you do it? * 

"*I can't! I can't!' 

" < Then I wiU for you.' 

** The rowers in the boat saw him lean forwards, they 
heard two pistol shots, they saw him double himself across 
the tiUer, and then, before the smoke had lifted, they 
found that they had something else to think of. 

**For |at th at-i nstant, the storm broke — one of those 
short sudden squalls which are common in these seas. The 
MatUda heeled over, her sails bellied out, she plunged her 
lee raU into a wave, and was off like a frightened deer. 



JELLAND^S VOYAGE 335 

Jelland's body had jammed the helm, and she kept a 
course right before the wind, and fluttered away over the 
rising sea Kke a blown piece of i)aper. The rowers worked 
frantically, but the yawl still drew ahead, and in five 
minutes it had plunged into the storm wrack never to be 
seen again by mortal eye. The boat put back, and reached 
Yokohama with the water washing halfway up to the 
thwarts. 

" And that was how it came that the yawl Matilda^ 
with a cargo of five thousand pounds and a crew of two 
ijeaj, young men, set sail across the Pacific Ocean. What 
the end of Jelland^s voyage may have been no man knows. 
He may have foundered in that gale, or he may have been 
picked up by some canny merchantman, who stuck to the 
bullion and kept his mouth shut, or he may still be cruising 
in that vast waste of waters, blown north to the Behring 
Sea, or south to the Malay Islands. It's better to leave it 
unfinished than to spoil a true story by inventing a tag 
to it.'' 



B. 24 

1T0LD my story when I was taken, and no one would 
listen to me. Then I told it again at the trial — the 
whole thing absolutely as it happened, without so 
much as a word added. I set it all out truly, so help me 
God, all that Lady Mannering said and did, and then all 
that I said and done, just as it occurred. And what did I 
get for it? "The prisoner put forward a rambling and 
inconsequential statement, incredible in its details and 
unsupported by any shred of corroborative evidence." 
That was what one of the London papers said, and others 
let it pass as if I had made no defense at all. And yet, 
with my own eyes I saw Lord Mannering murdered, and 
I am as guiltless of it as any man on the jury that tried me. 
Now, sir, you are there to receive the petitions of pris- 
oners. It all lies with you. All I ask is that you read it — 
just read it — and then that you make an inquiry or 
two about the private character of this Lady Mannering, 
if she still keeps the name that she had three years ago, 
when to my sorrow and ruin I came to meet her. You 
could use a private inquiry agent or a good lawyer, and 
you would soon learn enough to show you that my story 
is the true one. Think of the glory it would be to you 
to have all the papers saying that there would have been 
a shocking miscarriage of justice if it had not been for 

336 



B. 24 837 

your perseverance and intelligence! That must be your 
reward, since I am a poor man and can offer you nothing. 
But if you don^t do it, may you never lie easy in your 
bed again! May no night pass that you are not haunted 
by the thought of the man who rots in jail because you 
have not done the duty which you are paid to do ! But 
you will do it, sir, I know. Just make one or two in- 
quiries, and you will soon find which way the wind blows. 
Remember, also, that the only person who profited by the 
crime was herself, since it changed her from an unhappy 
wife to a rich young widow. There^s the end of the string 
in your hand, and you only have to follow it up and see 
where it leads to. 

Mind you, sir, I make no complaint as far as the bur- 
glary goes. I donH whine about what I have deserved, and 
so far I have had no more than I have deserved. Burglary 
it was, right enough, and my three years have gone t<toay 
for it. It was shown at the trial that I had had a hand 
in the Merton Cross business, and did a year for that, 
so my story had the less attention on that account. A man 
with a previous conviction never gets a really fair trial. 
I own to the burglary, but when it comes to the murder 
which brought me a lifer — any judge but Sir James 
might have given me the gallows — then I tell you that 
I had nothing to do with it, and that I am an innocent 
man. And now I'll take that night, the 13th of Septem- 
ber, 1894, and I'll give you just exactly what occurred, 
and may God's hand strike me down if I go one inch 
over the truth. 

I had been at Bristol in the summer looking for work, 
and then I had a notion that I might get something at 



388 B. 24 

Portsmouth, for I was trained as a skilled mechanic, so I 
came tramping my way across the south of England, and 
doing odd jobs as I went. I was trying all I knew to 
keep off the cross, for I had don^ a year in Exeter Jail, 
and I had had enough of visiting Queen Victoria. But 
it*s cruel hard to get work when once the black mark is 
against your name, and it was all I could do to keep soul 
and body together. At last, after ten days of wood-cutting 
and stone-breaking on starvation pay, I found myself near 
Salisbury with a couple of shillings in my pocket, and my. 
boots and my patience clean wore out. There's an ale-house 
called ** The Willing Mind," which stands on the road 
between Blandford and Salisbury, and it was there that 
night I engaged a bed. I was sitting alone in the tap-room 
just about closing time, when the innkeeper — Allen his 
name was — came beside me and began yarning about the 
neighbors. He was a man that liked to talk and to have 
someone to listen to his talk, so I sat there smoking and 
drinking a mug of ale which he had stood me; and I took 
no great interest in what he said until he began to talk 
(as the devil would have it) about the riches of Mannering 
HaU. 

" Meaning the large house on the right before I came to 
the village? " said I. " The one that stands in its own 
park?" 

" Exactly," said he — and I am giving all our talk 
so that you may know that I am telling you the truth 
and hiding nothing. " The long white house with the 
pillars," said he. " At the side of the Blandford Road." 

Now I had looijied at it as I passed, and it had crossed 
my mind, as such thoughts will, that it was a very easy. 



B. 24 339 

house to get into with that great row of ground windows 
and glass doors. I had put the thought away from me, 
and now here was this landlord bringing it back with 
his talk about the riches within. I said nothing, but I 
listened, and as luck would have it, he would always come 
back to this one subject. 

** He was a miser young, so you can think what he is 
now in his age," said he. " Well, he's had some good out 
of his money." 

" What good can he have had if he does not spend 
it? » said I. 

"Well, it bought him the pretti est wife in England, 
and that was some good that he got out of it. She thought 
she would have the spending of it, but she knows the 
difference now." 

"Who was she then?" I asked, just for the sake of 
something to say. 

** She was nobody at all until the old Lord made her 
his Lady," said he. " She came from up London way, 
and some said that she had been on the stage there, but 
nobody knew. The old Lord was away for a year, and 
when he came home he brought a jroung wife back with 
him, and there she has been ever since. Stephens, the but- 
ler, did tell me once that she was the light of the house 
when fust she came, but what with her husband's mean 
and aggravatin' way, and what with her loneliness — for 
he hates to see a visitor within his doors ; and what with 
his bitter words — for he has a tongue like a hornet's 
sting, her life all went out of her, and she became a white, 
silent creature, moping about the country lanes. Some 
say that she loved another man, and that it was just the 



340 B. 24 

riches of the old Lord which tempted her to be false to her 
lover, and that now she is eating her heart out because 
she has lost the one without being any nearer to the other, 
for she might be the poorest woman in the parish for all 
the money that she has the handling of." 

Well, sir, you can imagine that it did not interest me 
very much to hear about the quarrels between a Lord and 
a Lady. What did it matter to me if she hated the sound 
of his voice, or if he put every indignity upon her in the 
hope of breaking her spirit, and spoke to her as he would 
never have dared to speak to one o^ his servants.? The 
landlord told me of these things, and of many more like 
them, but they passed out of my mind, for they were no 
concern of mine. But what I did want to hear was the 
form in which Lord Mannering kept his riches. Title-deeds 
and stock certificates are but paper, and more danger than 
prc^t to the man who takes them. But metal and stones 
are worth a risk. And then, as if he were answering my 
very thoughts, the landlord told me of Lord Mannering's 
great collection of gold medals, that it was the most valua- 
ble in the world, and that it was reckoned that if they 
were put into a sack the strongest man in the parish would 
not be able to raise them. Then his wife called him, and 
he and I went to our beds. 

I am not arguing to make out a case for myself, but 
I beg you, sir, to bear all the facts in your mind, and to 
ask yourself whether a man could be more sorely tempted 
than I was. I make bold to say that there are few who 
could have held out against it. There I lay on my bed 
that night, a desperate man without hope or work, and 
with my last shilling in my pocket. I had tried to be hon- 



B. 24 341 

est, and honest folk had turned their backs upon me. They 
taunted me for theft; and yet they pushed me towards it. 
I was caught in the stream and could not get out. And 
then it was such a chance : the great house all lined with 
windows, the golden medals which could so easily be melted 
down. It was like putting a loaf before a starving man 
and expecting him not to eat it. I fought against it for a 
time, but it was no use. At last I sat up on the side of 
my bed, and I swore that that night I should either be 
a rich man and able to give up crime for ever, or that 
the irons should be Bn my wrists once more. Then I slipped 
on my clothes, and, naving put a shilling on the table — 
for the landlord had treated me well, and I did not wish 
to cheat him — I passed out through the window into the 
garden of the inn. 

There was a high wall round this garden, and I had 
a job to get over it, but once on the other side it was all 
plain sailing. I did not meet a soul upon the road, and 
the iron gate of the avenue was open. No one was moving 
at the lodge. The moon was shining, and I could see the 
great house glimmering white through an archway of 
trees. I walked up it for a quarter of a mile or so, until 
I was at the edge of the drive, where it ended in a broad, 
graveled space before the main door. There I stood in the 
shadow and looked at the long building, with a full moon 
shining in every window and silvering the high stone front. 
I crouched there for some time, and I wondered where I 
should find the easiest entrance. The comer window of 
the side seemed Jo be the one which was least overlooked, 
and a screen of ivy hung heavily over it. My best chance 
was evidently there. I worked my way under the trees to 



342 B. 24 

the back of the house, and then crept along in the black 
shadow of the building. A dog barked and rattled his 
chain, but I stood waiting until he was quiet, and then 
I stole on once more until I came to the window which I 
had chosen. 

It is astonishing how careless they are in the country, 
in places far removed from large towns, where the thought 
of burglars never enters their heads. I call it setting temp- 
tation in a poor man's way when he puts his hand, meaning 
no harm, upon a door, and finds it swing open before him. 
In this case it was not so bad as that, but the window 
was merely fastened with the ordinary catch, which I 
opened with a push from the blade of my knife. I pulled 
up the window as quickly as possible, an then I thrust 
the knife through the slit in the shutter and pried it open. 
They were folding shutters, and I shoved them before me 
and walked into the room. 

" Good evening, sir ! You are very welcome ! " said a 
voice. 

I've had some starts in my life, but never one to come 
up to that one. There, in the opening of the shutters, 
within reach of my arm, was standing a woman with a 
small coil of wax taper burning in her hand. She was tall 
and straight and slender, with a beautiful white face that 
might have been cut out of clear marble, but her hair 
and eyes were as black as night. She was dressed in some 
sort of white dressing-gown which flowed down to her feet, 
and what with this robe and what with her face, it seemed 
as if a spirit from above was standing in front of me. 
My knees knocked together, and I held on to the shutter 
with one hand to give me support. I should have turned 



B. 24 343 

and run away if I had had the strength, but I could only 
just stand and stare at her. 

She soon brought me back to myself once more. 

" Don't be frightened ! " said she, and they were strange 
words for the mistress of a house to have to use to a 
burglar. " I saw you out of my bedroom window when 
you were hiding under those trees, so I slipped downstairs, 
and then I heard you at the window. I should have opened 
it for you if you had waited, but you managed it yourself 
just as I came up." 

I still held in my hand the long clasp-knife with which 
I had opened the shutter. I was unshaven and grimed 
from a week on the roads. Altogether, there are few 
people who would have cared to face me alone at one in 
the morning; but this woman, if I had been her lover 
meeting her by appointment, could not have looked upon 
me with a more welcoming eye. She laid her hand upon my 
sleeve and drew me into the room. 

" What's the meaning of this, ma'am.'* Don't get trying 
any little games upon me," said I, in my roughest way — 
and I can put it on rough when I like. " It'll be the worse 
for you if you play me any trick," I added, showing 
her my knife. 

** I will play you no trick," said she. " On the contrary, 
I am your friend, and I wish to help you." 

" Excuse me, ma'am, but I find it hard to believe that," 
said I. "Why should you wish to help me?" 

" I have my own reasons," said she ; and then suddenly, 
with those black eyes blazing out of her white face : " It's 
because I hate him, hate him, hate him! Now you under- 
stand." 



844 B. 24 

I remembered what the landlord had told me, and I did 
understand. I looked at her Ladyship's face, and I knew 
that I could trust her. She wanted to revenge herself upon 
her husband. She wanted to hit him where it would hurt 
him most — upon the pocket. She hated him so that she 
would even lower her pride to take such a man as me into 
her confidence if she could gain her end by doing so. 
I've hated some folk in my time, but I don't think I ever 
understood what hate was until I saw that woman's face 
in the light of the taper. 

** You'll trust me now? " said she, with another coaxing 
touch upon my sleeve. 

"Yes, your Ladyship." 

" You know me, then? " 

" I can guess who you are." 

" I dare say my wrongs are the talk of the county. But 
what does he care for that? He only cares for one thing 
in the whole world, and that you can take from him this 
night. Have you a bag? " 

" No, your Ladyship." 

" Shut the shutter behind you. Then no one can see 
the light. You are quite safe. The servants all sleep in 
the other wing. I can show you where all the most valua- 
ble things are. You cannot carry them all, so we must 
pick the best." 

The room in which I found myself was long and low, 
with many rugs and skins scattered about on a polished 
wood floor. Small cases stood here and there, and the walls 
were decorated with spears and swords and paddles, and 
other things which find their way into museums. There 
were some queer clothes, too, which h^d been brought from 



B. ^4 345 

savage countries, and the lady took down a large leather 
sack-bag from among them. 

" This sleeping-sack will do," said she. " Now come 
with me and I will show you where the medals are." 

It was like a dream to me to think that this tall, white 
woman was the lady of the house, and that she was lending 
me a hand to rob her own home. I could have burst out 
laughing at the thought of it, and yet there was something 
in that pale face of hers which stopped my laughter and 
turned me cold and serious. She swept on in front of me 
like a spirit, with the green taper in her hand, and I 
walked behind with my sack until we came to a door at 
the end of this museum. It was locked, but the key was 
in it, and she led me through. 

The room beyond was a small one, hung all round with 
curtains which had pictures on them. It was the hunting 
of a deer that was painted on it, as I remember, and in 
the flicker of that light you'd have sworn that the dogs 
and the horses were streaming round the walls. The only 
other thing in the room was a row of cases made of walnut, 
with brass ornaments. They had glass tops, and beneath 
this glass I saw the long lines of those gold medals, some 
of them as big as a plate and half an inch thick, all 
resting upon red velvet and glowing and gleaming in the 
darkness. My fingers were just itching to be at them, 
and I slipped my knife under the lock of one of the cases 
to wrench it open. 

" Wait a moment," said she, laying her hand upon my 
arm. " You might do better than this." 

" I am very well satisfied, ma'am," said I, " and much 
obliged to your Ladyship for kind assistance." 



346 B. 24 

" You can do better,'* she repeated. " Would not golden 
sovereigns be worth more to you than these things? " 
" Why, yes," said I. " That's best of all.'' 
"Well," said she, "he sleeps just above our head. It 
is but one short staircase. There is a tin box with money 
enough to fill this bag under his bed." 
" How can I get it without waking him? " 
" What matter if he does wake? " She looked very hard 
at me as she spoke. ^'You could keep him from calling 
out." 

** No, no, ma'am, I'll have none of that." 
'^ Just as you like," said she. '^ I thought you were a 
stout-hearted sort of man by your appearance, but I see 
that I made a mistake. If you are afraid to run the risk 
of one old man, then of course you cannot have the gold 
which is under his bed. You are the best judge of your 
own business, but I should think that you would do better 
at some other trade." 

^^ I'U not have murder on my conscience." 
"You could overpower him without harming him. I 
never said anything of murder. The money lies under the 
bed. But if you are faint-hearted, it is better that you 
should not attempt it." 

She worked upon me so, partly with her scorn and 
partly with this money that she held before my eyes, that 
r believe I should have yielded and taken my chances up- 
stairs, had it not been that I saw her eyes following the 
struggle within me in such a crafty, malignant fashion 
t^at it was evident she was bent upon making me the tool 
of her revenge, and that she would leave me no choice 
but to do the old man an injury or to be captured by him. 



B. 24 347 

She felt suddenly that she was giving herself away, and 
she changed her face to a kindly, friendly smile, but it 
was too late, for I had had my warning. 

" I will not go upstairs," said I. " I have all I want 
here/' 

She looked her contempt at me, and there never was a 
face which could look it plainer. 

" Very good. You can take these medals. I should be 
glad if you would begin at this end. I suppose they will 
all be the same value when melted down, but these arie the 
ones which are the rarest, and, therefore, the most precious 
to him. It is not necessary to break the locks. If you press 
that brass knob you will find that there is a secret spring. 
So! Take that small one first — it is the very apple of 
his eye.'' 

She had opened one of the cases, and the beautiful 
things all lay exposed before me. I had my hand upon the 
one which she had pointed out, when suddenly a change 
came over her face, and she held up one finger as a warn- 
ing. " Hist! " she whispered. " What is that? " 

Far away in the silence of the house we heard a low, 
dragging, shuffling sound, and the distant tread of feet. 
She closed and fastened the case in an instant. 

" It's my husband ! " she whispered. " All right. Don't 
be alarmed. I'll arrange it. Here ! Quick, behind the tapes* 
try!" 

She pushed me behind the painted curtains upon the 
wall, my empty leather bag still in my hand. Then she 
took her taper and walked quickly into the room from which 
we had come. From where I stood I could see her through 
the open door. 



S48 B. 24 

" Is that you, Robert? " she cried. 

The light of a candle shone through the door of the 
museum, and the shuffling steps came nearer and nearer. 
Then I saw a face in the doorway, a great, heavy face, all 
lines and creases, with a huge curving nose, and a pair of 
gold glasses fixed across it. He had to throw his head 
back to see through the glasses, and that great nose thrust 
out in front of him like the beak of some sort of fowl. 
He was a big man, very tall and burly, so that in his loose 
dressing-gown his figure seemed to fill up the whole door- 
way. He had a pile of gray, curling hair all round his 
head, but his face was clean-shaven. His mouth was thin 
and small and prim, hidden away under his long, masterful 
nose. He stood there, holding the candle in front of him, 
and looking at his wife with a queer, malicious gleam in 
his eyes. It only needed that one look to tell me that he 
was as fond of her as she was of him. 

" How*s this?" he asked. "Some new tantrum? What 
do you mean by wandering about the house? Why don't 
you go to bed? " 

" I could not sleep,*' she answered. She spoke languidly 
and wearily. If she was an actress once, she had not for- 
gotten her calling. 

" Might I suggest," said he, in the same mocking kind 
of voice, "that a good conscience is an excellent aid to 
sleep? " 

" That cannot be true,'* she answered, " for you sleep 
very well." 

" I have only one thing in my life to be ashamed of," 
said he, and his hair bristled up with anger until he looked 
like an old cockatoo. " You know best what that is. It is 



B. 24 S49 

a mistake which has brought its own punishment with it.'' 

*' To me as well as to you. Remember that ! " 

** You have very little to whine about. It was I ^ho 
stooped and you who rose." 

"Rose!'» 

" Yes, rose. I suppose you do not deny that it is pro- 
motion to exchange the music-hall for Mannering Hall. 
Fool that I was ever to take you out of your true sphere ! '* 

" If you think so, why do you not separate? " 

" Because private misery is better than public humilia- 
tion. Because it is easier to suffer for a mistake than to 
own to it. Because also I like to keep you in my sight, 
and to know that you cannot go back to him." 

" You villa in ! You cowardly villain ! " 

" Yes, yes, my lady. I know your secret ambition, but 
it shall never be while I live, and if it happens after my 
death I will at least take care that you go to him as a 
beggar. You and dear Edward will never have the satis- 
facti9n of squandering my savings, and you may make 
up your mind to that, my lady. Why are those shutters 
and the window open? " 

" I found the night very close." 

" It is not safe. How do you know that some tramp 
may, not be outside? Are you aware that my collection of 
medals is worth more than any similar collection in th6 
world? You have left the door open also. What is there 
to prevent anyone from rifling the cases? " 

** I was here." 

" I know you were. I heard you moving about in. the 
medal room, and that was why I came down. What were 
you doing? " 



S50 B. 24 

^' Looking at the medals. What else should I be 
doing? " 

" This curiosity is something new.*' He looked sus- 
piciously at her and moved on towards the inner room, 
she walking beside him. 

It was at this moment that I saw something which 
startled me. I had laid my clasp-knife open upon the top 
of one of the cases, and there it lay in full view. She saw 
it before he did, and with a woman's cunning she held her 
taper out so that the light of it came between Lord Man- 
nering's eyes and the knife. Then she took it in her left 
hand and held it against her gown out of his sight. He 
looked about from case to case — I could have put my 
hand at one time upon his long nose — but there was 
nothing to show that the medals had been tampered with, 
and SO9 still snarling and grumbling, he shuflted off into 
the other room once more. 

And now I have to speak of what I heard rather than 
of what I saw, but I swear to you, as I shall stand some 
day before my Maker, that what I say is the truth. 

When they passed into the outer room I saw him lay 
his candle upon the comer of one of the tables, and he 
sat himself down, but in such a position that was just out 
of my sight. She moved behind him, as I could tell from 
the fact that the light of her taper threw his long, lumpy 
shadow upon the floor in front of him. Then he began 
talking about this man whom he called Edward, and every 
word that he said was like a blistering drop of vitriol. He 
spoke low, so that I could not hear it all, but from what 
I heard I should guess that she would as soon have been 
lashed with a whip. At first she said some hot words in 



B. 84 351 

reply, but then she was silent, and he went on and on in 
that cold, mocking voice of his, nagging and insulting and 
tormenting, until I wondered that she could bear to stand 
there in silence and listen to it. Then suddenly I heard him 
say in a sharp voice, " Come from behind me ! Leave go 
of my collar! What! would you dare to strike me?" 
There was a sound like a blow, just a soft sort of thud, 
and then I heard him cry out, " My God, it's blood ! He 
shuffled with his feet as if he was getting up, and then I 
heard another blow, and he cried out, " Oh, you she-devil ! " 
and was quiet, except for a dripping and splashing upon 
the floor. 

I ran out from behind my curtain at that^ and rushed 
into the other room, shaking all over with the horror of 
it. The old man had slipped down in the chair, and his 
dressing-gown had rucked up until he looked as if he had 
a monstro us hump to his back. His head, with the gold 
glasses still fixed on his nose, was lolling over upon one 
side, and his little mouth was open just like a dead fish. 
I could not see where the blood was coming from, but I 
could still hear it drumming upon the floor. She stood 
behind him with the candle shining full upon her face. Her 
lips were pressed together and her eyes shining, and a 
touch of color had come into each of her cheeks. It just 
wanted that to make her the most beautiful woman I had 
ever seen in my life. 

*' You've done it now ! " said I. 

" Yes,'* said she, in her quiet way, " I've done it now." 

" What are you going to do? " I asked. " They'll have 
you for murder as sure as fate." 

*' Never fear about me, I have nothing to live for, and 



SSft B. 24 

it does not matter. Give me a hand to set him straight in 
the chair. It is horrible to see him like this ! •* 

I did so^ though it turned me cold all over to touch him. 
S<Mne of his blood came on my hand and sickened me. 

** Now,*' said she, ** you may as well have the medals 
as anyone else. Take them and go." 

" I don't want theml I only want to get away. I was 
never mixed up with a business like this before." 

** Nonsense ! " said she. ** You came for the medals, and 
here they are at your mercy. Why should you not have 
them? There is no one to prevent you." 

I held the bag still in my hand. She opened the case, 
and between us we threw a hundred or so of the medals 
into it. They were all from the one case, but I could not 
bring myself to wait for any more. Then I made for the 
window, for the very air of this house seemed to poison 
me after what I had seen and heard. As I looked back, 
I saw her standing there, tall and graceful, with the light 
in her hand, just as I had seen her first. She waved good- 
bye, and I waved back at her and sprang out into the 
gravel drive. 

I thank God that I can lay my hand upon my heart and 
say that I have never done a murder, but perhaps it would 
be different if I had been able to read that woman's mind 
and thoughts. There might have been two bodies in the 
room instead of one if I could have seen behind that last 
smile of hers. But I thought of nothing but of getting 
safely away, and it never entered my head how she might 
be fixing the rope round my neck. I had not taken five 
steps out from the window skirting down the shadow of 
the house in the way that I had come, when I heard a 



B. 24 863 

scream that might have raised the parish, and then another 
and another. 

" Murder! '* she cri ed^ " Murder ! Murder ! Help ! " and 
her voice rang out in the quiet of the night-time and 
sounded over the whole country-side. It went through my 
head, that dreadful cry. In an' instant lights began to 
move and windows to fly up, not only in the house behind 
me, but at the lodge and in the stables in front. Like a 
frightened rabbit I bolted down the drive, but I heard the 
clang of the gate being shut before I could reach it. Then 
I hid my bag of medals under some dry fagots, and I 
tried to get away across the park, but someone saw me in 
the moonlight, and presently I had half-a-dozen of them 
with dogs upon my heels. I crouched down among the 
brambles, but those dogs were too many for me, and I 
was glad enough when the men came up and prevented 
me from being torn into pieces. They seized me, and 
dragged me back to the room from which I had come. 

"Is this the man, your Ladyship.?" asked the oldest 
-of them — the same whom I found out afterwards to be 
the butler. 

She had been bending over the body, with her handker- 
chief to her eyes, and now she turned upon me with the 
face of a fury. Oh, what an actress that woman was! 

" Yes, yes, it is the very ma nj" she cried. " Oh, you 
villain, you cruel villain, to treat an old man so ! " 

There was a man there who seemed to be a village con- 
stable. He laid his hand upon my shoulder. 

" What do you say to that.? *' said he. 

" It was she who did it," I cried, pointing at the woman, 
whose eyes never flinched before mine. 



S54 B. 24 

^^Come! come! Try another!" said the constable, and 
one of the men-servants struck at me with his fist. 

** I tell you that I saw her do it. She stabbed him twice 
with a knife. She first helped me to rob him, and then 
she murdered him." 

The footman tried to -strike me again, but she held up 
her hand. 

*' Do not hurt him," said she. *^ I think that his punish- 
ment may safely be left to the law.** 

•* 1*11 see to that, your Ladyship,*' said the constable. 
*^ Your Ladyship actually saw the crime committed, did 
you not?** 

" Yes, yes, I saw it with my own eyes. It was horrible. 
We heard the noise and we came down. My poor husband 
was in front. The man had one of the cases open, and 
was filling a black leather bag which he held in his hand. 
He rushed past us, and my husband seized him. There was 
a struggle, and he stabbed him twice. There you can see 
the blood upon his hands. If I am not mistaken, his knife 
is still in Lord Mannering*8 body.** 

** Look at the blood upon her hands ! ** I cried. 

^* She has been holding up his Lordship*s head, you 
lying rascal,** said the butler. 

** And here's the very sack her Ladyship spoke of,** 
said the constable, as a groom came in with the one which 
I had dropped in my flight. ^^ And here are the medals 
inside it. That*s good enough for ine. We will keep him 
safe here to-night, and to-morrow the inspector and I can 
take him into Salisbury.** 

" Poor creature,** said the woman. " For my own part. 



B. £4 355 

I forgive him any injury which he has done me. Who 
knows what temptation may have driven him to crime? 
His conscience and the law will give him punishment 
enough without any reproach of mine rendering it more 
bitter.'* - 

I could not answer — I tell you, sir, I could not answer, 
so taken aback was I by the assurance of the woman. And 
so, seeming by my silence to agree to all that she had said, 
I was dragged away by the butler and the constable into 
the cellar, in which they locked me for the night. 

There, sir, I have told you the whole story of the events 
which led up to the murder of Lord Mannering by his 
wife upon the night of September the 14th, in the year 
1894. Perhaps you will put my statement on one side as 
the constable did at Mannering Towers, or the judge after- 
wards at the county assizes. Or perhaps you will see that 
there Is the ring of truth in what I say, and you will 
follow it up, and so make your name for ever as a man 
who does not grudge personal trouble where justice is to 
be done. I have only you to look to, sir, and if you will 
clear my name of this false accusation, then I will worship 
you as one man never yet worshiped another. But If you 
fail me, then I give you my solemn promise that I will 
rope myself up, this day month, to the bar of my window, 
and from that time on I will come to plague you in your 
dreams if ever yet one man was able to come back and 
to haunt another. What I ask you to do is very simple. 
Make inquiries about this woman, watch her, learn her 
past history, find out what use she is making of the money 
which has come to her, and whether there is not a man 



S66 B. 24 

Edward as I have stated. If from all this you learn any- 
thing which shows you her real character, or which seems 
to you to corrobwate the story which I have told you, 
then I am sure that I can rely upon your goodness of heart 
to come to the rescue of an innocent man. 



THE END 



liiiii 



Ulllill 



3 2044 021 217 C 



A FINE IS INCURREIVIF THIS BOOK IS 
^RETURNED TO THE LIBRARY ON 
THE LAST DATE STAMPED